Rise Or Fall
by Unit529
Summary: My name is Jurgen Weiss combat pioneer of the "Das Reich" second Waffen SS division. I write in this journal of my sins. And the loss of my division I guess I'm am the Remanent of a dead Nation
1. Chapter 1

Prologue 1/4

January 27th 1943

" It has been one year... one long, bloody and terrifying year. I have suffered more in this place then anywhere else on the battlefield. A horrid consistently of gun fire and rockets screaming into the night, the once great city now in ruins!. The Reds are closing in on all sides, our freedom is just a flickering light, just far away from our grasp.

Fire and smoke now leave this city like an open wound. The fires burning long into the night sky and the sound of Stalins Organ playing over our heads!. Never would I thought to have lived this long. The waves of flesh smashing into our lines never ending as we are pushed back. A constant gang war! Over pieces of rubble and streets that are not worth of spilling blood!... How many has died taking this land and constantly pulling the lines as if it was some sick game of tug of war?. Too many good honest men and young spilled there blood... German blood on lands that aren't even worth it.

The Russians are using the sewers like the rats they are. Constantly running throughout the city like a plague, thrusting there rusted blades through honest German blood. I will make them pay with every bullet, with every body that just keeps piling up. I will take as many as long as I breathe."

January 28th 1943

"I'm not sure how long we can hold this city, with our lines pushed too far back, away from the river front. Ivan has used this and the winter months to bolster his lines! pressing hard against us, driving us further away and locking us in a stalemate. That is reliant… no dependent, on attrition. Snipers roam the city free for there will, scouring from advantage point to locations suitable for there prowess. Picking off high valued officers and troops. Our efforts in countering the snipers has met there ends in various locations and our high ranking ace sniper. Has met his end by the Russian hero named Vassili, when the bolshevik began another assault taking more territory pushing us even farther. I always have to watch the buildings and the rubble fearing that a crosshair is on my back when I'm out in the open.

And the worse has yet to come!. Our armour lie in smouldering wrecks, bombers and fighter bombers of German and bolshevik machines alike litter the streets and buildings. With all the territory we have claimed over the course of a year! all of it was for nothing, not even a dam Iron cross can hold much over the others, the fallen are awarded with wooden crosses… it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth now. This is worse then operation Unternehmen Barbarossa!. It was hell as we retreated, me and a small armoured convoy where split off from our main SS division. They chased us across the country nearly one hundred kilometres southwest. Our petrol almost ran dry until we bumped into the Herr group B. Our division was needed back at Germany for another assignment. But we choose to stay with the 4th panzer division and the 6th army.

The beginning of our campaign went smoothly our attack breached through. Driving them back with every hour and within five months we held control over the city. My men and I held no mercy towards our enemies anymore, with every Russian filth we find the opportunity, we seized it to execute them. Hanging there body's and when we found out that some of the refugees are against us... so too will they share the same fate. It dose not matter anymore as I'm covered with lice, my uniform stenches like powder, blood and filth. My uniform lost its glory two months ago now faded and shown of well use, I have not received an replacement in over a month. With all the ash and dirt sticking on me irritating the skin and my wounds. The smell of death and war weighs heavily in the air killing my nose. The smell of blood, iron, brass and powder is nothing but a reminder of where I am now. Holding on to a thread.

The men are slowly losing moral with every bolshevik we killed, there's always more to fill in the gap with an empire such as Russia there are more bodies then guns. I even witnessed how there commanding officers treated the civilians with little training and a lacklustre of rifles. There's so many lying around now but I fear we have awoken a beast... slowly sinking its teeth and claws into our flesh pulling us down.

I can feel my will withering with everything that has happened in this god forsaken hellish war torn city!. Nothing lives only the mark of our flags and high tell signs of a firefight. Empty shell casings littered and piled high in homes of worthless last stands.

Fear has risen throughout the ranks and my small platoon. Retreating deep into the western city where a Cathedral stood slightly disturbed from the conflict deep within this bloody graveyard. It's location is better as it is protected from the front, originally this was where our artillery pieces stood shelling across the river and into it. They now lay long forgotten or left behind from our haste, wide open fields in a circular manner. Trenches barbwires and mines strategically placed in the eastern and northeast direction. The reason we retreated here was the location to get out and it severed as an artillery pool and the large convoy ready to evacuate everyone that made it here. Those that did not make it are lost or fighting off the mongrels to stall them in this god forsaken city.

I could hardly believe this we were on the attack then defence... and now we are turning tail and running for our lives! Ha... back to the safety of our defensive positions or regrouping for an counterattack.

Worse is that Ivan is trying to put a red ring of steel around this city!. They are hot on our heels... this may be the last time I may write today. I hope to the führer that our sacrifice has paid enough blood and that my death may be swift and painless."

Putting down the pen and journal while his spectacles placed inside a steel case. His grey faded uniform filled with holes and torn. The man was in his late twenties his dry dirty blond hair covered in ashes. His helmet well worn, scratched, grazed and his blue eyes dulled the lost of life far gone from the years. His features is nothing but a tired battle hardened worn face. A strong jaw line with a soft look covered in dirt, grime and dry blood. Standing tall at five feet four inches, his body malnourished due to supply's cut off and pulled away, when the fighting turned in the past month.

the Cathedral he sat in was largely intact most of the glass was still standing unbroken. The men that ran to and fro with crates of supplements, tools and munitions. There spirits… there body language held fear a loss that hit everyone hard. At the back where the altar stood now had a large map of the city was on, the wall lights over head and on the walls flickered here and there. It made the Cathedral alive but nothing short of a dying man taking in his last moments, the men rushed taking what they needed for the evacuation. An Officer stood above a crate preparing as he called out gathering the attention from everyone.

"Men… I have terrible news, the bolshevik's are advancing too quickly towards our position! The ones tasked to hold them back has been completely annihilated and broken. Gather what we have here, So leave the guns and ammunition take as many fuel as the vehicles can carry. We are leaving immediately!. But we need more volunteers to stay behind, to give us time to safely make it out of this forsaken city."

A large out burst came from the men yelling and shouting as to who will stay behind.

"I'll stay behind" one yelled out sitting next to one of the many glass panes "me too." Another spoke "I'm just too tired to run I'll stay too."

one by one old veterans stood or grabbed there weapons and finally. The pressure in side his breast was to great as he took his PPSH "I'm staying here and holding this line... even if it is to give you a fighting chance!"

Fifty eight men, fifty eight brothers, staying behind to stall the Russian mongrels. He watched and he stood tall, watching them pile into the half tracks and Ople blitz trucks.

sitting quietly, silently praying for there safe exit. The officer stood amongst them as he too chosen to stay with them. In a futile effort to stall Ivan with what they have.

A panzer III ausf H stood in the middle of the Cathedral. Signs of unfinished work with the engine out, hanging in chains. The engine block swayed slightly from its chains, left to rot in this harsh winter air.

With time against them, some started to set up some tripods and moving a pak 38 (L/60) towards the right side of the door. The blown out wall was perfect for the pak 38, having a clear line of sight and unimpeded firing ring of hundred eighty degrees, greatly covering the front. Troops gathered any rubble to set up a makeshift shielding around the gun and there positions.

Thirty four ventured into the trench, taking care that they aren't spread too thin. The entrenchment was dug in placed, stretching in a hundred eighty degrees around the front of the cathedral facing the east. It was a perfect tunnelling network made by German hands, the Cathedral held four heavy machine gun emplacements from the safety of the Cathedrals stone walls.

The crates left behind held several weapons, new to be exact, inside lay the newest frontline weapons. The Geweher 41 with some scopes and the newest machine gun the 42 but only two where available.

Most of the men holding Kar98k's traded for the Geweher 41 taking as much strip clips. others took hold of belt Fed munitions stocking up there empty pouches. Five grenadiers took the light 34 machine gun, placing them selfs around the entrenched Cathedral. The men took time placing there equipment down and handing out potato mashers.

Jurgen Weiss took hold of 5 cm Pzgr. shells the freezing brass sapping the heat away for a bittersweet frost. They where stacked dangerously in a pile. He took the time placing the high explosive .38 shells in a more protected area, the panzergranate munitions of 40 and the 39 near the pak38 anti-tank gun.

The silence that hung in the air was unnerving for the troops. Without the constant sounds of skirmishes or the screams of rocket batteries. The only sound that came was snow crunching under there boots, the clinking of brass rubbing each other on the belts men whispering to each other. This deathly, silent of a torn city clawed at there souls, begging them to join in this graveyard. No sounds, just the still quiet of the light snow fall the winds began to howl through the ruins. No shells falling or the cracks of rifles, no Russian screaming out for blood and screaming sounds of rockets absent.

"This is bad... really bad" Jurgen could not keep the dread coming from his voice, his hands shaking from the anticipation then the cold biting into his flesh. as the silence drew longer as it was taking hold over this dead city.

"I know komrade, it's the calm before the storm. Quickly go back to the church and grab a case of pocket artillery." He spoke lowly while gently pushing him back towards the trench. Without a word he swiftly trended through the maze. Soldiers spread sparsely through the trenches clothing barely keeping the cold at bay as some had raggedy coats, cloths wrapped tightly around there hands and wrists.

"komrade I need more belts here get me some and a few grenades!" Nodding his head in acknowledgement. The snow began to fall over the now growing grey covered sky, the temperature begging to drop with every few minutes. There breathing letting out small puffs of steam while others having cloth wrapped around there ears to keep warmth and muffle the ensuing battle. The Cathedral its self stood tall as its window panes where shattered and broken... it's broken state and busts where silently watching the men prepare for the end.

The silence was slightly disturbed by an echoing sound. It rang clear into the air and throughout the city. Slowly it grew louder the faintest sounded familiar, it was no mistaking the grinding treads of a T34 panzer, soon followed by the barking of dogs. The fear that gripped the troops, they stilled there breaths held in anticipation, there blood freezing from the cold grip of hell upon there door step.

Not daring to look behind himself, he quickened his pace through the tunnelling network. Reaching the cathedrals wall, entering the gaping wound in the wall. Boots clacking on rubble and stone, they scattered in his haste. Stopping near the altar where several crates and containers, he gathered the munitions and model24 potato mashers. When he could not carry anymore then he needed. Belts slinging over his neck and shoulders a box filled to the brim, bullets filled his pouches and replacement barrels hanging onto his straps followed by a case of grenades.

Rushing carefully into the trenches relinquishing the extra munitions he carried. To every brother, he handed them a single grenade as he passed. The There sights on the outskirts of the field where the city began and surrounded them from five hundred meters.

"Henkel I got an extra belt and a few grenades for you." Jurgen spoke pulling his Russian machine pistol out. Gripping the charging bolt, he pulled back cocking his machine pistol. Gently resting his drum mag on the snow and dirt. Henkel gathered the ammunition and barrels, he carefully placed the seven stick grenades between them.

Unlocking the MG34's cover checking the mechanical gas operating system. Seeing it free from dirt and grime. Pulling the belt out of the case as brass clinked with one another. Fitting the first of many closing the cover and bumping it twice before cocking once then twice as the first bullet fell into the snow. Gently he rested his hand against his the stock and his shoulder.

All of them waited for the inedible end. The city that once stood before them, was cracked and devastated. Slowly a red flag came above the highest debris and rubble, a commissar stood there. Chanting could be heard and a rousing speech loud and clear echo out from the man. The Soldiers steeled there resolve for the last time, ignoring the growing cries of the devils. They paid no mind only checking there equipment and seeing who was around them for the last time. Like a dam bursting or the severe storm from the sea. The troops gripped there weapons tightly the only sound was weapons clacking and cocking.

A red swarm flooded over the stone and ruins from the city. The only word that could describe the mass of infantrymen was close towards a disturbed hornets nest. They charged head long into the small defiant brothers there cries of battle and rifles cracking out. They where closing the gap slowly, and the closer they charged the more ferocious they roared as a Red banner carrier charged head long in the front. The thin steel of a bayonet was at the ends of there rifles, rifles raised and cracking adding into there fury.

The Germans did not waver though as they knew there was no escaping. There breaths steady, calm hands gripping there rifles and LMG's. Four hundred meters away the Russians charged on without fear but only with hate. A fire in there eyes burned furiously within there hearts, over the bloodshed spilled within this massive grave.

Three hundred meters was where the swarm drew into the line. Without warning or mercy the ground bursted open, launching a small sizeable cylindrical can into the air by half a meter.

The can detonated in mid air. The thin layer cylindrical sheet expanded from the kinetic force within, small steel marbles shredded through the thin layer. Small and numerous they flew just after the shockwaves washed over flesh and cloth. The shiny steel marbles seething hot, flew at an extreme speed, piercing… no tearing into the flesh like a ravenous animal. The impact where the marble pierced shook the flesh open, tearing the tissue and mussels alike before connecting with bone shattering or ripping them to splinters. The Shock wave pushed against the Russians away from the epicentre before more leaped from the snow and dirt. Germany's finest, the blood of the Fatherland took the initiative, flashes of rifles and machine guns storm out a lead of rain down upon the bolshevik.

Screams blood curdling screams left from those animals, the red army scrambled for the dirt in an attempt to have cover in the open field. The sound of a bullet shredding into the flesh and bone, torn from high caliber rifle rounds was sickening. And the sight of a man's leg arm or his torso being gutted and dissected, how the tissue ripped off from the impact or the muscle pulled apart. With bone turned into powder or splinters, and the organs painfully mauled or turned into paste lungs ceasing to work or being spilt onto the reddening snow the slightest of steam escaping the now cooling organs. The blood that sprayed out from there backs when a round successfully exited the body towards the next destination. The whirlwind of led and mines having the desired effect from the demoralizing first wave.

The remaining or surviving reds took what ever cover to hide from the fury of led. But none could be found in the open lands, leaving them open to the Iron eagles claws. Some of the reds took hold of the dead twisting them to use as make shift cover. They returned fire when ever they can, most of there shots going wide or hitting hard cover. The Germans hiding behind there solid cover as riflemen took calculated shots towards the rear guard, the assault troops and Machine gunners took out the front.

Over the sound of combat and screams was faint. but with a well trained ear or battle hardened veteran knew of the distinctive sound of rumbling stone and grinding treads. This sound was clear over the gunfire and the few knew what was coming. "Herr Panzer! T34!" One screamed out. The T34 bursted through a stone wall it's turret facing towards the rear, the red star painted on the side with a bold white line. The engine roared strongly as it pushed over the wall, soon troops flooded forth from the new opening. The turret began to rotate towards there line, soon the armoured beast pushed its engine getting a roar of heavy smoke. Moving forth towards it's destination and Russian troops getting on the back. Rushing towards there positions coaxial and bolshevik guns firing wildly into their trenches and the Cathedrals walls. The T-34 drove over the minefield setting them off for minimal effect. It came within a hundred meters stopping on the right side of there defences. The tank riders jumping off to storm the dug in brothers.

The hull and coaxial machine guns tore through three grenadiers, yelling and screaming out from pain. Other volks and grenadiers switched there sights on the riders. An Mannschaften grabbed hold of A Panzernacker it's powerful magnets and cone shaped charge. Once the bolshevik threat was slaughtered he ran out from his cover, charging towards the right side of its blind spot. Bullets flew around him when Ivan found out his plan, when he jumped out from the safety of the trench. His footing made contact on unstable land, falling a bullet grazed his shoulder and his rifle left behind.

With every step he made coming closer towards the tank, reaching out he pulled out the explosive preparing the knacker, managing to get to the T34's rear left side. The steel beast was too focused on the defenders a loud thunderclap rang out, the explosive shell impacted near the first entrenchment. Placing the magnetic anti-tank grenade on the side hull rendering the sloped hull useless, pulling the cap off he ran. Rushing away, falling back towards the safety of his trench. The armoured beast's side blasted where the grenade once stuck. The cap pierced into the armour spreading hot and molten steel. The shrapnel ripped into the fuselages container igniting the diesel.

The fragments still moved on, cutting pipes wires and the engine block. The flames quickly spread over the spilling fuel, swiftly it burned uncontrollably licking the crude engine and heating the second fuel container. The tank crew panicked as they tried to open there respective hatches, the fire seeped through, directly into their canopy. The driver and radio operator where the first to be met with lead. The commander stumbled out of the way, falling into the snow on its right side, the gunner jumped off landing with a thud.

The loader was almost out of his iron furnace until the gas and engine combusted. Flames bellowed out like a volcano consuming him as he fell back in. It reached high into the sky burning him alive, the hot metal floor eating and roasting his flesh as chunks peeled off. His cries and screams loud and clear through the roaring flames and war. In an instant the tank exploded in a beautiful show of force and terror. The shock wave spread across the snow and dirt, washing its force over anything that it past. The fire soon came after reaching out greedily and consuming the air. Twisted metal escaped from the force. Metal chunks of hatches, bolts, twisted steel and the turret itself left the T-34's body from the combustion.

the Mannschaften got out of the kill radius. The force from the shockwave washed over him as it put him down. Standing back up quickly as his body would allow a bullet struck his leg, the round entering and escaping cleanly through. Yelping out in pain, his legs buckled beneath him falling back into the snow. A fellow grenadier saw this as he tried to get out of his cover, only to be pulled in.

"Nein Dummkopf he is all ready gone. And we don't have the army here, are all that is LEFT!" He yelled the last word. His steely grip holding the young mans shoulder. More Russians bolstered the lines as reinforcements to renewed the assault.

"I can save him let me go!" With a thrash from his shoulder the soldier lost his grip. Jumping onto the high ground. Moving his legs across the field, his boots leaving swift prints and snow flying. Charging head long, the young grenadier ran out to save his comrade. Rounds flew past and whizzed closely by him, with every step he made the more intense it got. Ivan took the chance to kill if it showed… and it did. Reaching out towards his downed brother he took hold of his shoulder dragging him to safety. Ivan did not let up seeing the wounded and saviour gaining there bloody hate.

he heard the gunfire behind him, gaining more attention to him and his wounded brother. Pulling with his weakening state and fleeting strength, seeing as he came closer and closer. A seething hot pain rippled through his back and lung. Falling he felt the snow encompassed him, the biting cold of snow and the warmth escaping from his wounds. Breathing became harder and shallow as he stared into the grey sky and falling snow. He became colder with every struggling breath, he felt no pain just the cold air of the late winter month. His mind drifted away as sleep pulled at him begging to rest… and so he fell to the temptation.

Ivan kept up the pressure as the commissars threw body after body. Clearing most of the S-mines from the first assault. Russian moral fell as they suffered from the heavy machine positions, lead rained heavily the guttering sound from a buzz saw rang loud and true. Light machine gun positions flashed from the dugout. Wood, snow and dirt hid their users only the top of their helms and shadows covering their eyesight. Rifles still rang true, accurate within Ivan's line, machine pistols clattering with the heavy artillery.

Grinding treads rumbled over the fighting once again. From the city a grey body moved behind the stone walls, coming into view was one Bolshevik panzer. That tank quickly turned into two T34 beasts the second coming swiftly from behind it. their sloped and rolling armour plates dull and harden. Prowling as the predators they are. slowing down the panzers allowed themselves to act as cover. The soviets rallied behind them slowly marching towards them.

The officer saw this, getting off the heavy machine gun running towards the railing. "Wolfe get that gun on them!" Screamed the Officer taking his machine pistol in hand. The pak crew took to the anti tank gun, the gunner taking hold of the crank handles his eye lining with the sights. Aiming the gun, twisting and slowly rotating the handles, the thin lines that made the crosshairs the centre directly over the T-34's front mantle. Loading the panzergranate 40 shell, the loader reached over patting the gunner before turning his head covering his ears opening the mouth wide. With a thunderclap and ringing ears, the shell flew screaming across the short distance before impacting. The round slammed into the front rounded smooth mantle, the shell ricochet off!. The orange tracer redirected, flying wide towards the right, digging into a buildings wall. "aim for the cheek Dummkopf, hit it in the cheek!" The officer yelled spent casings discharging from the MP40, the brass casings clattering next to him.

The loader lowered the handle, the breach loader released the now empty shell. Taking a hold on the empty shell casing, pulling as hot brass clattered behind him, from tossing it aside. Reaching out grabbing another shell the round grey warhead sliding into the breach. With practice ease, the holder slid closed in with efficiency and the gunner took aim. Adjusting the cranks again lining his sights with its left cheek. With a clap and recoil, the first T-34's left cheek was left with a fist sized burning hole, the coaxial gun ceased and stopped dead in its tracks.

With it's allied armour stopped dead. the second T-34 rotated its main gun, the coaxial firing across the stone and wall, where the Pak gun was hidden. It's bullets shattering stone and wood where it strafed. Firing all across the wall and debris, with a thump a shell impacted. The wall next to them exploded, small stones and sizeable blocks flung out. Bullets skittered across the steel plate, it did nothing to keep the gunner and loader safe from the strafe, the shots that pierced through hitting their mark. The loader ducked low hugging the ground unscathed, the gunner to focus with his sights his crosshairs lining up with the tank. Bullets sparked across the thin plate, a single bullet pierced through, embedding into his shoulder. The flesh parting from entry, just missing his shoulder blade. with a grunt of pain, his muscles trembled, reacting by instincts he squeezed the trigger to hold himself upright. The gun fired prematurely, the shell soared gracefully from the barrel. Spinning the armour piercing shell cut cleanly into the F-34 Barrel the impact twisting the hardened steel. Warped and torn the barrel looked completely useless. Collapsing to the ground the gunner held his shoulder the pain seething through his teeth.

Another soldier ran towards the Pak 38 as the loader recovered another shell loading it in with practice ease. The second man took aim rotating the gears his sights aligning on the drivers hatch he fired.

The shell flew straight and true its sharp pointed cap like a rapier. Connecting the shell discharged its payload burning a hole into the drivers plate. The shell went through but the destruction was kept minimal, it traveled through cutting into the gunners leg. The force tore throughout the steel flooring and ripping him off his seat. The power had enough destruction through the plate piercing had tore into the tanks engine killing the beast. Flinging open the crew bailed out screaming profanities at the defending resistance in there native language. Several German grenadiers open fire on them getting the crew to take cover.

The first T-34 slowly rotated its turret the main gun steadily stabilizing. All grenadiers where distracted by the unrelenting fierce push by the red plague. A grenadier ducked as he reloaded his rifle, looking up he spotted the tanks rotating gun. He yelled out "Dam Panzer is still up!"

"Take aim at the first one! it's still operational!" The officer cried out. The T34 completed it's movement, its coaxial machine gun and the main 76.2 gun fired, hitting close to Jurgen. The shock and blast took him by force... the kinetic energy washed over, alongside with dirt, snow and mud. him knocking him down the reverberations washing over his body and ears.

High pitched ringing and dazed he stumbled up. Looking over towards where the blast was, he froze, his blood running cold as his mind screaming out to look away!. but he couldn't, with the sight to see his comrade like the ones before. The boy was holding his stomach, the flesh torn with the large wound. Steam escaped into the air the blood drooling out of him along with his stomach. Part of him was missing his right shoulder only the flimsy strings of his muscle and skin. His ears still rang out, the sight in front of him overwhelming. He could see his fear the tears that leaked out as the boy slowly reached out to him.

Jurgen reached out to the boy, the tears that ran down his pleading eyes. He brushed his hand only to see it slumped into the dirt and snow. He looked into that boys eyes, seeing his life ebbed away. Another clap rang out, bringing him into his senses. turning he saw the T-34 brining with another ring in its left cheek again, the tank stopped firing for the second time. "Put another in it to make sure it will never fire again!" Screamed someone.

Jurgen looked down, the blood on his left hand, the boy that lay next to him. He trembled as his hand clenched into a fist, the wet cool sticky blood. the rage that built up began to boil over seeing the MG34 he reached out grabbing the machine gun. As he slammed the gun down the belt clinking, pulling the charging bolt back lining up towards these animals. Pulling the trigger the machine gun sang, he screamed out his rage as the bullets leapt from the box and glide over his palm. He held the trigger the gun roaring with him, the bullets and brass leaving a smoking trail. Heat started to climb at an alarming rate the barrel starting to glow red. Casings spilling to the ground clacking on top of another, the barrel smoking with the building excesses heat radiated off hissing like a rattlesnake. The snow instantly melting from the radiation exposure.

A sickening clank was what came out of the 34. Twisting the side cover releasing the entire body moving the body towards the side to see the still hot and smoking metallic tube. Unsheathing the smoking red hot barrel from its grasp, burning steel met his skin the sensation burning him to the touch. Tossing the useless bent metal aside with a fresh steel sliding it in and locking in place.

Fixing the problem he took aim and fired again in a more controlled burst. The belt sliding from the box over his palm, into the hungry machine. It was a satisfying sensation, and seeing those animals being put down by his hands, their screams music towards his ears.

The firefight had lasted nearly two hours, before Ivan gave the retreat back to there lines. The Germans continued to hold firm like Iron their spirits renewed. At the sight of the Russians retreating with their tails between there legs. They held there fire, but none cheered or even smiled, because they knew what was coming soon.

The light snow fall started to pick up, some troops went inside the Cathedral, gathering munitions and tags from the fallen looting them for socks and better clothing. Water was scarce and food was so small that rationing them wouldn't last a day or two. They had plenty of munitions and explosives that could feed a frontline heavy battalion for months.

The light snow fall had slowly turned into a deathly snow storm, temperatures dropping drastically bitting into the unprepared. The Germans counted this as a blessing for the men that made it out of hell. They also counted this as their curse, most of them did not have the clothing to keep the cold away or to stay warm. But the storm held there deaths a little longer prolonging their suffering.

Authors note

Edited at 6:47 am June 8th

Edited at 10:11 AM September 21st

Wow I looked back at this part and it was gross reading it and so I am rereading and revising this to make it better and I'm surprised no one said anything. Well tell me next time when something like this happens. As seen below

This is my first time and I will try to update when ever I can or get in time through work but give a shout and see if I missed anything or if I have to rewrite and give me a kick in the ass if I'm taking too long. work can make me forget that I have other things. And give out advice too. would appreciated it and even if it is harsh and all.


	2. Chapter 2

Prologue 2/4

February 1st 1943

"This storm it's unnatural we can't even leave this Cathedral! We have sent two men out to find away through the Bolshevik's line. hopping beyond god, to get out!... but that was two days ago and not a single one came back. I fear there is something at the works here… I can feel it in my guts my instincts screaming out danger that I can't see!. Some of the men claimed it to be magic! I have my suspicions too towards this unnatural weather too. I cannot see two feet in front of me! And If I stand at the door or anywhere near where the winds could howl, the chilling winds out side this barrier isn't bypassing through here. No the winds are actually going around around us! instead of going through this cathedral. The chilling cold is still seeping through though, it's cold freezing hands slowly grasping at our lives.

The fires we have blazing are not enough to combat the bitterness of the late winter, especially the condition of our uniforms!. Our clothing is i'll proper winter gear, our fight should have lasted before the first snow fall. I remembered that Moscow was so close that our scouts could see the gold on top of saint Basil's Cathedral. Now all of us are using any scrap we could grab. And it hurts me seeing our brothers fighting each other over this garbage!. What have we become, to be in such a state… that we are willing to spill each other's blood?.

My hands are freezing and the senses of feeling anything is lost. I try to keep them warm over the dying flames. The men try to huddled closely to each other, trying keep warm or grabbing scraps of flammable debris. We found one of our own frozen dead in his sleep the touch burned me from the sickly cold skin, some of them have even looted his corpse for the jacket and his socks."

February 2nd 1943

"The blizzard has passed over night, I could still see the city that surrounded us, but it felt different. I would worry about that later some of our weapons are now in poor condition from the frost and ice. Most of the bolts are sticking or frozen in place, from that last scuffle with Ivan and we have a few men working hard to get them in working order. We can still see beyond the outermost city, only to see red banners with that dam star with its sickle and hammer! gently fluttering in the wind. So... Ivan stayed close to us during the blizzard.

I can see the few russkies running about like rats, shock guards, shock troops, the red rifle guards and finally the meat troops. I'v been watching them from my cover with a pair of binoculars, for the past two hours nothing changed. I had to keep changing my position from time to time and only then I could use my binoculars, only when I'm out of the suns rays. The sun can give me away as it has saved my life from the hunters. The suns rays can give away anyone's position when the light hits the glass just right, giving a flash like a flare... that is why I only use them to see what I can make out or see what is going on. I fear that the glare or the lens flash could give me away, making me open towards a sniper who can pick me off.

Three hours has passed since I last checked. I can see it in their eyes there body language, the men are skittish right now... they are planing something… and all we can do is wait and prepare for the inedible. It kills me that th-"

His pen dropped from his grasp as the once silence air was broken by seven distinct thumping sounds. All of them where familiar with it, it was a sound that burned into them an instinctual reflex took over. Scrambling away from the windows and walls taking anything that was solid enough. The troops held closely towards the ground some covering their heads while others watched. The whistling sang out above there heads, the shells screaming out from their fins, there shrill screamed down upon the Cathedral. The screams came to an end before blasting dirt, snow and debris into the air. Shrapnel flew far and sporadic, damaging anything in there path, glass, wood, stone and flesh. Jurgen could feel the shockwaves emitting from their pay load, he looked to the roof above them seeing the chandlers swing, the dust and lose material falling from such force.

"Get to the trenches! Grab any rifle that can work. do not allow them to take a single step into our lines!" Screamed the officer. With out a word, the men jumped back onto their feet. Running out. Like a well oiled machine they are, the rifles, machine pistols, light machine guns and boxes of pocket artillery, where distributed swiftly amongst the defenders. The dormant pak38 re-maned to punch a hole through Russian steel. In there haste snow was thrown the crunching sound under there steel boots, shells still screamed their approaching decent raining around them.

Jurgen grabbed his PPSH 41 kept close by and the magazine box that laid next with him. "Victor, Otto, Emil with me!. Make sure you have extra magazines, we are heading to the first line and grab that 34!." His voice calm and controlled, turning around he jumped into the trench. Gunfire erupted like fireworks, the sound and the adrenaline pumping across his body then into his heart. Bullets whispered or whizzed by his head, the snow splashing from impacts, still he pushed harder through the low earth. Men shouted out cussing out profanity towards Ivan..

Keeping his head and body low in the trenched earth. Making his way towards the first line of defence, where he will meet the Bolshevik head on. The shells screams where unrelenting as they rained down, forcing the men into cover from debris, allowing Ivan to close the gap. There safety built into the earth and wood became there worse enemy, allowing the mortars clear targets where they should support their allies.

taking his PPSH 41 loading a round magazine from his straps, clicking the box charging the bolt waiting for the red menace. Otto came over holding several cases filled with fresh rounds for both machine pistols and strip clips stacked to the brim. "Victor set the mg34 and start working on it! Otto, Emil grab some extra munitions and take some grenades with you." With that they took what they needed spreading apart to keep one another covered.

"Ivan is not letting up on his bombardment." Otto spoked from his right. His cold blue eyes focused on the city's outskirts, gripping his mp40 tightly the sound whispering quietly. His cap and the raggedy scrap of a scarf covering his mouth and nose.

Weapons clicking and belts clinking with each other. "Victor is the MG ready yet?." Emil called out placing grenades close by. He unslung the Geweher 41 pulling the bolt back feeding it two strips, clicking forwards. He rested against the ground small puffs of steam escaped his steady breathing.

Victor shook his head the slipping on the solid ice block. "Nee. But this ice is more solid then Ivan's head." He let out a small chuckle. Placing his light machine gun down the boxes near by, taking hold and unfolding the bipod. Taking the belt out a small thin metal sheet jutted out, guiding it through the feeding chamber. Pulling the bolt back and allowing it to slide forwards, locking the first round of many.

"Quiet I can hear something" Jurgen said over the explosions. True enough over the sound of bombardments, grinding treads came clear from the outskirts. Rolling into view a small sloped tank no higher then 2 meters crawled over the small mound of debris. Its small turret and smooth short barrel looked like a familiar shape… until it clicked in his head, seeing them from the start of the invasion. "Scheißdreck it's s a T60 get down!" He yelled out, the T60 light tank rolled over it's main gun firing it 20mm explosive shells. Fragmentation splattered snow, dirt and splintering wood where rounds struck. Troops ducked deeper into the ground, taking cover when ever the rounds struck too close or where the splashing leads to them.

The reds came out like a hungry pack towards a weak beast. "Konrad get on the pak right now! Everyone shoot! shoot at the reds!." Yelled the officer firing towards the red plague. Rifles, machine pistols and LMG's came to life, spewing led towards there hated Enemies. The reds took cover behind their fallen, using them as meat shields for cover. Shells still screamed above them like a banshee from above, keeping them down to keep the suppression levels to a minimum.

The T-60 continued its corse, twenty millimetre canon firing rapidly in short bursts. Konrad open fired, whistling towards the T-60 it struck hard on top leaving a smooth cut on top of it's head leaving it unscathed. "Dam it! It's is to low for the gun too hit it. I just need it to be lower to hit the dam thing!." Called out Konrad. The T60 that was closing in slowly, only stopping to turn its turret towards the pak crew.

The officer let out a low growl "Karl, Hubert, Rochus and Alfred go help him lift it!" Dropping out from there cover, they moved swiftly through there defence towards the gun. "Get down now!" Yelled the officer.

Several bursts came out as twenty millimetre rounds cut through the air. A round flying at such a velocity connected with raw force an unfortunate soul took the brutal force. Kinetic energy transferred into his leg the clothing tearing apart. Muscle and skin separating for the round, this kinetic energy forced a ripple to spread out through skin and tissue trying to soften or slow this energy. The energy was overwhelming that the skin ripped apart the muscle shredding itself apart, the mass moved through without resistance. Bone snapped and turned into splinters. He screamed out in agonizing pain, cries for help or desperation as he held onto the stump.

A grenadier got out of his hole pulling his injured comrade to safety. Blood trailing along with his injury "Karl! I need you to calm down! I can't help you if you keep this up." Called the grenadier holding him down trying to tie a scarf around just a little above his stump, to stop or slow the bleeding. His screams cut out as his body slumped into the snow. His breathing becoming more shallow "dam it!" He hit the ground several times screaming it out "you animals! You red bastards I'll kill you! I'll KILL EVERYONE OF YOU!" He yelled taking the MP40 from his dying comrade unleashing his hate.

The remaining men jumped over the debris getting around the AT gun "help me lift this gun so I can hit that dam thing!" Called Konrad they began to Lift the pak AT gun up, the men straining themselves as the gunner stacked stone blocks and debris underneath its recoil legs. Giving the gun a much better angle. Swiftly the gunner jumped on twisting its gears to realign with it's target, with a thunderclap it soared gracefully in the air, connecting heavily in the right front armour. The shell tore through its thin steel hide remaining intact throughout it's travel, on it's continued corse it slammed into the engine block. Ripping, shredding and bursting into fragments catching fire towards it's vital diesel fuel. Flames quickly spread inside this small tank licking the crew and her payload. quickly the T-60 burst open, flames clawing forth twisted steel and discharged rounds flying in every direction. Leaving the left and right side that was blown open, tracers leaping out like grasshoppers.

"ah ha! that's right you Bolshevik scum burn. Burn you retched creatures! The German race will be victorious! And we will take as many before we die!" Screamed Jurgen tap firing his PPSH-41 towards the advancing soviets.

"Jurgen I need help!" He looked over to see Emil trying to forcefully bolt out a round. "It's jammed I can't get it out" his shaking voice came out quickly.

Quickly Jurgen took the rifle examining the rifles mechanism. He froze what he saw the bolt was not stuck… no it was torn where the spring was. A sizeable gap was located there. Dropping the Geweher he grabbed Emil turning him around to see a wound just above his right upper torso missing his lung. "Emil patch yourself up now!" He leaned down taking a discarded MP40 and handing it to Emil. Before he could take it away, he tightened his grip "patch yourself up first" he growled out before letting it go to reload his PPSH 41.

The battle escalated over time, the soviet's where taking heavy losses, suffering more then Reich's military might. But the German heart was losing, no matter how well trained or battle hardened they where. There protection, there cover suffering from heavy mortar bombardment, the reds continuously suppressing them. Granting these beasts to take a step closer. The massing infantry of bodies and lead continued to litter the field. Spent casings covered the dirt and snow, the wounded bleeding as they fought at each other's throats.

"There is no end to them!" Yelled Victor the mg34 bursting towards the large mass, empty shell casings clinking on top of the growing pile. His boot clinked against the pile littering the ground, Four spent barrels laying in the snow, as one was still burning hot, melting the snow.

"Otto go back to the church and grab more munitions" said Jurgen his PPSH laid empty next to him. The MP40 in his grasp controlling the steady recoil, a resounding click came out. Locking the bolt thumb on the release. pulling the spent clip out allowing it to fall away, reaching over taking one of last eight magazines from the box. Several spent clips laid around him.

"jawohl mein kommandant." Yelled Otto stopping his suppression then taking off towards the Cathedral.

Jurgen called out as the red came closer then before "Emil I need you to suppress them." He didn't hear anything. "Emil" he called again "Emil are you still with us?." Jurgen called out once again. Nothing came back. Looking towards his right he saw Emil lying in the dirt, his bleeding stopped from his wound but his eyes are now glassy. "I thought I told you to patch yourself up Emil." He spoke under his breath redoubling his efforts towards the advancing enemy. Stopping to see how close they truly where just near meters away from his position.

"Jurgen watch out!" Yelled Victor lifted the mg34 swinging towards Jurgen's right. Hearing and seeing what he had planned he dropped into the dirt. The MG34 sang above him as Victor struggled with the weapons recoil. Victor fought for power from this beast the belt hanging off but getting smaller. Bullets tore through his enemies, ripping the flesh at such a close proximity, he could hear their screams behind him, and the heavy smell and taste of iron flooded his nose. Thinking quickly he turned onto his back seeing four Russian infantry managing to pushing through, lifting the machine pistol holding the trigger letting lose a steady stream against them. His machine pistol clacked telling him that it was empty, getting up and removing the empty mag he threw it, hitting a Bolshevik in his face, distracting him just enough for someone else to finish him off.

"Dam it! we can't hold here anymore." He spoke loading another magazine that felt light. "I don't know how long we can hold out from this pressure." Jurgen said finishing off the magazine he tossed the empty mag hitting another Russian. Reaching another clip from his belt only to feel air after a few pats until he felt the last one. A low growl came out of his throat "I'm on my last leg here!"

"The MG is out! I have no more belts to feed it" Victor said taking his MP40 quickly loading a clip.

"Where is Otto when you need him!." Yelled Jurgen letting lose. The Reds now reaching there trench line. he let out a feral roar as a rifleman… a young boy beryl in his twenties but his eyes held fire in them, a fire that was mutual with Jurgen's eyes. He charged at him with a bayoneted rifle as the boy screamed out his rage. Jurgen knew what was coming, he done this dance a few times before, twisting his body the blade grazed his uniform. Like a viper he grasped the rifle tightening his grip, with a roar he pulled with his might. The kursant lost his footing from the unexpected turn of events. Falling into the trench, Jurgen leapt at his chance drawing his hitler youth knife. The cold steel unsheathed from his boot slipped across the younger mans hand, releasing his grip from the mosin Nagant. Continuing his resolve the knifepoint came down with the might of man's fury, grief and loss. It cut through cloth and skin sinking deep into his chest, muscle tissue and strings parted from the bloody steeled edge before pulling out. Over and over again as the wound became into an horrifying sight. The boy was long dead but the knife kept running through, cutting more flesh and the blood staining his steel and what could be called a uniform.

A scream of rage shook Jurgen from his right. "Jurgen get out of the way!" Screamed Victor as pushed him aside, taking the brunt from a soviet shock trooper. Ivan came down upon them, into there trench, his rusty blade held firmly within his grasp. It came down but his intended target was pushed aside, cutting into Victor's right thigh embedding itself. A pained scream came forth, reaching out he pulled his own knife his breathing ragged and holding rage within. Shooting forth, thrusting into this shock troops chest, the steel came closer towards it's tended corse. But when the blade cut through the cloak, it made a sharp metallic clang on his chest that hid a steel plated body armour. The Bolshevik ripped his blade out, thrusting into his side stomach, pulling and gutting him. Victor tried as he might and desperately swinging to get through his plated chest.

Jurgen fumbling over his holster, losing precious time as Ivan thrashed at his brother like a rabid animal. With the clasp unhooked pulling out his C96 mauser pistol, cocking the first round. Abandoning accuracy pulling the trigger four times, it barked out four rounds, the first striking metal steel, the second, made his target flinched up holding his shoulder. A round missed completely as the last shot grazing his cheek. Noticing this opportunity with his wavering strength, Victor lunged up digging his blade right across his throat. The big bear of a man held onto the open gash trying to breathe, barking out once again Jurgen finished him off.

Rushing towards his comrade to aid him. But Victor reached out grabbing tightly into his collar "Get out of here Jurgen! Get back to the Cathedral." Victor seethed out the pain crawling across his features before pushing him. He began crawling towards the case of grenades. "I'm done... you can't do anything…. To what that Barbarian did to me." Victor coughed grabbing two model 24 grenades. He started to twist the cap twice before barking out "Los Los dummkopf!"

Jurgen got up taking the MP40 and his PPSH 41. Running back to the Cathedral, he lost his footing when an explosion erupted behind him turning he saw four Russians flying or knocked down, turning once again he kept low into the earth, bullets whizzed by or whispered to closely for his liking. Getting back half way through the defensive line, he saw other Grenadiers took up behind him closely retreating back further into there defences. Cracks of gunfire became few and far, the farther he went the less sounds of warfare came. Getting through the tunnel the grenadiers that where behind, started to take up defensive positions near the windows and debris.

What Jurgen and most did not expect was that Ivan was retreating!. Back to there holes back to their lines like the rats they are. It sent a thrill of victory down his spine. "We did it we held them off!" One screamed out cheering but only a few joined in with him.

It was close to sundown, it has been four hours since then, Jurgen and a few others braved outside the fields of battle, collecting tags and munitions from the dead. Jurgen came across several Russian troops and a soviet guard. Taking there clothes a heavy coat and a watch that was cracked, finally he removed an armoured chest plate taking it for his own use. Putting them on, he felt better, much better at having something to protect himself from the cold chilling winds. They lost ten brothers this battle only leaving them with thirty seven left, the sun had started to set with night fall. It was too soon for it to arrive and it would be worse as time went on, how could they survive another assault from the unrelenting Reds with there inexhaustible numbers?.

The men where sprawled throughout the Cathedral some resting others taking watch. Making his way but stopping as he saw one of the men outside, holding onto tags. Changing corse he made his way out standing beside him, before he could speak the grenadier spoke first. "I fucking hate this forsaken city, its like hell on earth… I lost friends… I lost count on how much my brothers in arms where shot, stabbed or blown up." He took a deep shaky breath. "Hitler caused all this… this pain, this suffering that we have to go through or better yet this unachievable victory." Jurgen looked down at this excuse of a soldier but he could not blame him… no it was a man that was pushed too far all of them was pushed too far… too far gone to return. The sound of a gun cocked next to him looking over, the man had his P08 out, he looked over towards Jurgen, before saying his last words. "Hail… Hitler" he said no he spoke it with discus and venom before shoving it in his mouth. Pulling the trigger. The gun erupted shattering his skull and grey matter, he watched it all happen he felt rage, sorrows mess of emotions flooding him. He left walking away from a soldier that broke.

Heading towards the Officer on the second level, his heart felt heavy a miasma of hopelessness flooded the air, choking the men with everything they have. The wood creaked under his boots the bitter cold biting his exposed skin. Reaching the top level where the Officer was standing an MG42 laid next to his commanding officer. Shell casings littered the wooden floor barrels where carelessly tossed aside from there skirmish."herr kommandant we have lost ten men during the skirmish and one of the men has executed himself I fear there is something much worse in the coming morning." Jurgen said sitting next to the officer, releasing a tired sigh.

"Tell me Kommandant... what do you see wrong tonight" the officer said starring off into the night sky.

He looked ahead seeing this infernal city and there a red banner that he will always hate and fear. "All I see is the infernal Red banner of the soviets! And a wasted city that's been in Hell for the past two months!" Yelled Jurgen. He stood up as he waved an arm across the fields "The ground is littered in bodies! there blood dripping into there lands, we will make them drown in it." Jurgen grabbed his PPSH-41 tightly, his left fist held above his breast.

The Officer looked over to him then looked towards the night sky once again "That is not what I wanted to hear... look to the moon Jurgen and tell me what is wrong. And look closely to the city again." The Officer spoke calmly sitting back down, clasping his hands together beneath his chin, staring into the distance

Jurgen took a deep breath turning to the starry sky, but his blood felt cold his mouth agape. "What happened to the moon!" He softly asked out loud taking a seat next to his commanding Officer. His combat fatigue begging to grasp at his last ounce of energy. The moon shone dimly in the night it's fragments giving off a dreadful aura. The city beyond the Red banners was more taller but still looked like a war torn hellish city.

A flare flew high into the air a small puff could be heard illuminating over there heads. Getting up and hiding behind cover. Waiting for the reds to come… but there was no chanting or battle cries just gunfire clattering on there side. Staying in there defensive positions prying for a false attack. When nothing came Jurgen gathered the courage to peek, both of them seeing nothing.

The gunfire clattering across was no where near them in fact, it was somewhere else. "You think it's the division staging a counterattack?" Jurgen said giving false hope that they broken through again.

"No... like what you said Jurgen. Tomorrow will be worse." The officer spoke coldly watching the muzzle flashes of a skirmish across the field.

February 3rd 1943

I can't sleep I was able to get a few winks, but the constant gunfire is familiar... that is what I kept telling myself or want to believe. No I can hear howling out there and the others could too. Ripping a good rest away from us!. Wolves do not travel into a city like this... not when the fighting is still fresh. I can't believe I'm writing this but I hope the reds could hold out. Something is off and I do not want it to be magic. The Führer was right all along that magic dose exist!.

This skirmish we have lost ten and tonight. One of the men had enough putting a bullet through his own head. A coward if he ended his own life. weak if it came to it. I had thoughts of ending it with one round before but no as a trained Waffen SS that will never come to me in such a way.

Now only thirty nine of us remained. I just hope that what ever comes our way it will fall under the iron boot of the German race. I will not faultier in the face of our enemies I will fight till the last drop of blood and my last breath tearing at there lungs!.

Authors Note

Edited on October 3rd

Serious Ham (love that name) Dreadpool

I am keeping him as a true Nazi of the Feared Waffen Schutzstaffel. He will not have a heart of gold no... he has a heart of Iron forged in the fires of war and loyalty. And I do hate it when I see a Waffen SS solider has a good heart an is not a fascist. And I am counting on you two to keep me on track if I deviate because I am Canadian so I have a good heart.

And James I will embrace the ways of the age of 1933 to 1950 keeping it true to the time period and have him as what he is supposed to be.

And I give thanks to you all for the read and your reviews

Give out your reviews to help me improve because I'm doing this through my phone :(


	3. Chapter 3

Prolong 3/4

A grim situation

February 3rd 1943

"Ivan's firefight is still echoing strongly across the field… but at a much lower rate. It started to slow down as nightfall dragged on. There is something going on over there. I can feel it in my blood! My heart and my body telling me to prepare, my instincts raising alarms sounding of like the Stuka's dive, that something terrible is approaching us. I can see it in everyone, they are on edge. None of us had any sleep. I can still hear their howls, unnatural they sound because I remember what a wolfs howl is! I heard them at night, so many called out as if they founded their wounded prey. It kept most of us awake, robbing us our time to rest and mentally prepare. Even now we prepare and eat what we have left. Considering now the Ivan went quiet, it's unnerving that's what got to him, this is our last stand and whatever is out there they will taste Germany's finest.

This place is nothing we have seen in our campaign, most of us are superstitious right now as in how the moon ended up as it is. And the ruined city far beyond the Reds fortifications is something we must seek and scout out. Most of them are very tall yet there might be a building that is tall and stable enough to set up a .b2 transmitter and receiver. I have volunteered to venture out and do this mission. For the pride of the Fatherland and the lives of the men gathered here. Otto, Gunther, Detlef and Fritz are to be apart of this mission as they have volunteered.

I still feel tired. Slightly hungry and recovering from that assault Ivan pulled yesterday but in times of war, we need to push on. Maybe today might be my last. This is Jurgen Weiss of the second Waffen Schutzstaffel of the Das Reich division combat pioneer."

Taking his spectacles off, folding them neatly into his case. His blue lifeless eyes staring up at the four men standing close together.

A young man standing at five feet two inches looked down at him with a weary smile. "You know. No one is going to find that journal where we are now right. You always keep it on you at all times, I bet that the reds will burn it when they see it." Said Fritz, his dirty blonde hair a mess, the dull look in his blue eyes looking down at him. Holding his out stretched hand towards Jurgen.

Letting out a soft chuckle, he grasped the offered hand, allowing to be pulled up."this is actually a new one. I have three more just laying in my bag." He looked around taking in who was around him before being confused. "Now where is that Radio?" He asked looking around the table.

The mentioned radio clattered on the table unceremoniously. Jumping he reached out to grab it protectively, his eyes trained onto the assailant. "Dummkopf this is sensitive equipment!" He yelled at Gunther who was Carrying the battery pack.

Gunther gave a shrug of his shoulders and pointed to the officer. Looking up on the second floor he was in the same spot but with two mg42's next to him.

taking the radio pack strapping it on, getting a familiar feel that was lost before operation Barbarossa. Walking up the creaking wood seeing the Officer there looking towards the horizon. "What is it herr kommandant" he spoke stopping next to him looking out to see the ruined city.

The Officer did not spoke immediately just looking at the infernal red flag across from them. Turning his sights away to glance at Jurgen, but kept a straight face as he look back towards that opposing red mark. "Jurgen you have shown loyalty that I have not seen very much this past year. When we found what was left of your Das Riech... I was skeptical to bring you along with us to Stalingrad. And yet, here we are holding off the reds!. For our men to get out of this shit hole." He took a deep sigh as he reached up grabbing his Iron cross with oak leaves from his uniform. Slow was his pace up towards the wall. Placing his iron cross on the map. With swift and fluently where his movements that his iron blade cut through the ribbon embedding deep in paper and wood. His voice now sounded more wherry and tired. "I want you to succeed in this effort and get that Radio up and running. You will head north and swing around to the west. I want you too make haste and swiftly to that tower. We will hold here and I'll have someone here on the radio." He Spoke as they made there way downstairs and towards the central of the Cathedral.

A loud cry came from the east as a grenadier from the second level leaned over. "Russians heading our way!" He Yelled out. The church bursted into a frenzy as men where scrambling into defensive positions. troops taking arms and munitions to face there enemy to the east. With his Russian machine pistol, Jurgen took his position next to the Officer.

Out in the field, there where only twenty soviets running out of the city towards there lines. It befuddled Jurgen to no end. He saw the last two came out in the rear, turning around or blind firing off behind them. What they where shooting soon came forth out of the city's limit. It sent fear through the ranks as howls bellowed out. Beasts black as the night, their eyes glowing a hellish red. White plates protruding from there black hides as pikes or armour. They've poured out of that city like the plague as they Ravaged all life around them. Gaining ground on the retreating forms of the soviet troops. Two of these abominations pounced pinning their prey beneath themselves. Jurgen could hear the desperation coming from them, he watched them get ripped apart feverishly. Faintly He could hear their screams escaping from the mauling. Fear gripped at his hands and heart, witnessing such brutality? It wasn't until those red eyes locked with his.

Clenching his teeth tightly, he shook his head banishing his doubts. Raising his PPSH-41 with resolute strength overcoming what those demons were putting on him. "what are you waiting for? Shoot dam it! shoot!." The Officer yelled. A hail of led flew over the Russian's head, metal bit into the wolves hot lead sinking through the black hide. Most of the rounds made there marks against the abominations. But they did not register or they just simply ignored the impacts from the rounds. A few hundred rounds from the volley simply ricocheted off there white masks or plates. A howl pieced throughout the air, much louder over the pained roars and the cracks of our rifles. Jurgen look beyond, over the pack, his breathing hitched at the sight of what beheld in front of him. There standing on the rooftop of Ivan's strong hold, was the massive creature that held its stance in a low crouched position on the roof. Slowly the white wolf changed it's stance from crouching, to stand on its hind legs. The size difference was massive at this range it was taller... no. It completely dwarfed its kin!. A torn soviet banner was caught within its massive left paw, it fluttered around it's claws like a fish caught in a net. It's massive frame shook as if it had excess water, the red banner freed from its previous captivity. Lowering down once again it leapt forth, the sheer height and force left behind. Landing in front of its pack, taking the lead for what it assumed to be an easy win.

The retreating soviets still ran at desperate speed until a rifleman tripped over one of the many corpses. He hit the ground hard enough to lose rifle, it clattered and bounced farther away from his grasp. Desperation was written on his features, the alpha took this opening, jumping on him pinning him with it's weight. Raising its massive maw, it came swiftly down biting deeply into him silencing his cries from such a force, tearing out his flesh. Biting down once again tossing his corpse towards its pack. It was immediately sought after by its kin, the sight of such raw and powerful display, was a mix of fascination and fear through Jurgen. Its kin tore into the corpse eating it for all its worth. The sound of flesh tearing off his body and bone snapping, it was a sound that came close too nothing to what he ever heard, nothing close to what the war wrought upon him, sending a shiver down his core.

One of them stopped in his tracks turning around, screaming in his native language raising his PPSH towards the alpha, with the gun rattling lose lead towards the alpha. Bullets harmlessly bounced off its plate, it closed the gap between them. Without warning he was tackled from the side. It's smaller kin holding him down with it's maw biting deeply into his flesh. thrashing his body like a doll in an infants care.

"Jurgen go now! Head out the back and swing around wide towards the east and get to that tower!" Yelled the Officer pushing him away running up to the second level.

"Otto, Gunther, Detlf and Fritz lets go now, now!" Jurgen ran out the back with his PPSH-41 grasped tightly in his right hand. A belt of 5 full clips 2 round drum magazines with two model 24 grenades and one field medical pack. The radio bouncing gently on his back. Running across the soft melted covered field. Otto coming up behind him carrying his Geweher 41 scoped two Panzerknakers strapped on his belt, his uniform torn along his right arm, along with his worn boots. His smile ever present running across the slushy ground. Fritz with the battery pack on him, his a scoped Kar98K grasped tightly in his right hand running low and fast. The long grey coat flowing behind him. Steel Blue eyes watching out for the creatures.

Detlef an MG34 strapped on his heavyweight build. Uniform ill kept from the winter days, faded to a dull grey. Wet snow splashing with his lead footing, his field cap slightly covering his sight. The belts wrapped around his broad shoulders and chest and carrying a box of 9mm munitions at his side. Gunther taking the left his Machine pistol 40 in hand. Two model MK24 grenades on his belt. His uniform can no longer hold the pride of Germany, torn beyond recognition sleeves gone, torso barley holding on. The five running swiftly across wet covered grounds making process to there objective.

Reaching the ruined city once again. The familiar grounds came to them in a disturbing fashion. Slowing down there pace to a crawl, weapons drawn and raised. Unfolded the map and a compass in hand, Jurgen ran his finger along the city of Stalingrad. "This map won't do there is no tower on here. But if we take the road towards the left we might make a right afterwards." He spoke low loud enough for the others to hear. The compass pointing to the northeast. "If anyone has a better plan I suggest you speak up now."

"We should head down there and avoid the streets." Otto pointed at the map running a line across the ruined complex. "We should avoid open grounds from now on. Those abominations of wolves would rip us apart if they catch wind of us in the open." He spoke holding his rifle. The distant cracks of gunfire echoed throughout the city.

Standing tall folding the map back into his pocket. The ruined walls that lined the once great city. It was an unpleasant reminder of what happened through the year. The smell of charcoal, spent powder and the smell of stale blood in the air. The sound deathly silent nothing but the remnants of a long war past from here. Stone, wood, wet snow crunching under there boots there breaths slow and steady.

The familiar stone works and shattered glass that lay the cratered filled cobbled stone streets disappeared. Unfamiliar works now lined in paved streets, concrete buildings reaching tall into the sky and there the large structure stood. The Five men walked up towards double doors as a lock stand in the way, hitting the rusted locks to pry open the steel gate the building itself was the size of a underground facility. Breaking the lock open they took no time to enter, with weapons raised the interior was vast.

"Have you ever seen a building this large before?" asked Gunther looking around with awe. Multiple floors holding vast stores, looking similar towards a engineering bay.

"Nee I have never seen anything like it." Otto whispered, rifle held tightly scanning closely to the shadows.

"Otto what do you see?" Asked Jurgen doing the same scanning there surroundings. His eyes ever vigilant towards the shadows.

"I feel like we are being watched." He said taking slow steps to the stairs. Following his lead the others closed ranks keeping there backs to another. "We need to go now." He spoke silently holding his machine pistol tighter.

"I'm with Otto. The hair on the back of my neck is standing." Detlefs deep voice resonated in the dark empty halls. The silence was unnerving to them. Never had they experience a place so silent, dead and empty. Debris and rocks grinned or skittered under the heels of there steady pace.

"Wait I see something in here!" Called Gunther breaking off from the group. Running into a run down store.

"Gunther! No!" Yelled Jurgen grabbing his sub machine gun. He swiftly followed behind him. Gunther ever carefully removing rubble, wood and glass as he took hold of a black box. On the side was written Emerald trinkets. Opening the box was just small trinkets and a pocket watch with a small melody box. With careful hands Gunther handed over the two objects. "Here sir you have pockets and hold on to them for me." He spoke standing up with his machine pistol tightly grasped.

"Gunther don't run off we need to go now!" Grabbing his shoulder dragging him off. "Let's get out of here. We have spent enough time already." Jurgen swiftly taking lead. Holding the PPSH 41 in hand. Not even a few steps he turned back too see if Gunther was still with them, he froze at the sight of a woman at the far end of the mall. There was something wrong with her, the way she stood there, the clothing of how it soaked in the light or her pale deathly white skin but no it was her eyes blood red like the abominations out there. "Sir?" Shaking out of his stupor to look at Otto then back across to see she wasn't there anymore. "It's Nothing just the silence getting to me" he spoke out. They traveled down the escalator getting back on track but at how Jurgen was spooked, all five of them watched the shadows taking there conners slow and steady. Time was the enemy and they know what is at stake.

"There the exit" pointed Otto. The team moved swiftly across the desolate mall the clacking of there boots on the cracked marble floor. Opening the doors taking too the streets to see the tower just 5 kilometres out.

"We don't have time to take this slow. We need to hurry." Called out Detlef taking the lead mp40 in hand. The others followed him closely taking up ranks to cover there approach across open grounds.

The risk was high but they knew what was at stake. Quite was what could've been described if it wasn't the sound of stone skittering on the concrete streets. Swiftly with caution, the five made progress through the ruined city. Step by step the tower was closing in but it was not fast enough for Otto. "We need to hurry we don't know how long they can hold those abominations off for." He called sprinting faster ahead of Detlef.

"Otto get back here and stay with the team." Called Jurgen chasing after Otto the others following suit. "Stay with the team Otto. I know what is at stake here... we all do but we can't help them if we are dead." He grasped his shoulder, stopping out in the open crossroad street. He looked ahead to see the tower just a few minutes away he smiled at the sight. Feeling prideful that there objective is not too far "we are almost there comrade and once we get out of here, the beer is on me." He smiled taking the lead once again.

His smiled disappeared at the sight of a Siberian bear. But there was something wrong its fur. Black as the deepest cave drinking the light, white plates protruding from its back and shoulders. The familiar white mask and hellish red eyes staring back at him.

"Run to that building!." Jurgen yelled the beast let out a feral roar echoing out into the desolate streets, it began to charging towards them. Running into a large skyscraper still standing high amongst this ruined city. The bear crashed into the entrance breaking the doors and wall. Derbies fell, pinning the beast, where it came through. "Shoot, Shoot dam it!." Yelled Jurgen, unloading lead into the massive bear. Cracks of rifles and clatters of Machine pistols soon followed, peppering the bear. bullets littered across its frame. Some ricocheted off its white plated mask.

"Detlef set up that machine gun! and poke him in the eyes." Called out Gunther taking his pocket artillery, tossing it at the large bear. Trying to claw its way out, the big mass of the bear struggled. Clattering wood and steel caught its attention, looking down. the explosives blasted near its maw tearing into its flesh. Roaring in pain as it then fiercely tried too swipe at the five men, but stopped as a shower of bullets bite, clawed or ripped open fresh wounds. Detlef, taking control over the situation, maned his machine gun, rounds peppered the face plate tearing its unprotected mat black fur and flesh. It thrashed and roared in pain, from the unrelenting force. Soon it stopped it's fight after the last bullet was out of the 34.

"Munitions count!" Called Detlef. Unlocking the empty cartridge out of his 34. Replacing his spent cartridge with a fresh magazine in his pouch. "Used up two clips..." Gunther called out. He looked back at his MP40 before removing the mag giving it a little shake. "I think I still have half of my clip. Jugging by how light it is. Still got three more and a potato masher." Gunther looked around at his squad mates. "I used up four strip clips on my Geweher 41. I still have twelve left." He looked up to the silent rifleman. "Fritz how about you?." Sounded Otto. The silent man shook his head before holding up three fingers, then four. He showed them as he was walking out from his cover. "Bastard just ate my two clips!. And one full round drum mag." Spat Jurgen. Gathering his spent magazines. Clipping them back into there respective pouches. "I just hope the men back at the Cathedral is faring better." Said Jurgen giving a sharp kick to the beasts head. He looked over to his men reloading there weapons.

"Lets go before more gets here. Now move!" Jurgen called out, heading towards the damaged door but stopped at the sight of the abomination degrading into a thin black smoke. "What in the Führer's name is going on in this world!." He yelled watching it dissipate into nothing. Then the worst came echoing forth in several feral howls. It reverberated in the large Foyer, chilling there blood just by the sound.

"There coming." Fritz horsed out.

"Go... go up the stairs. Now!" Yelled out Jurgen as they ran up the stairs. Getting to the second floor. Jurgen looked back to see more of those black wolves, running through the open gap, where the bear once laid. Gunfire clattered with every step they took, hoping too god that it would slow them down. It was a fruitless effort against their heavy plates as bullets kept ricocheting off there face or shoulders. Reaching the third floor, they took to the right. Too be back in the foyer. seeing the long walkway, quickly he motioned his men to cross it. Running across the walkway, one of those beasts, leapt from the ground floor. Grasping on clumsy as Jurgen passed. Regarding It's current situation, it swung it's massive claw over as Otto tried to doge on this narrow path.

It's claws found purchase as it dug across his abdomen. Cutting cleanly through his uniform and skin. A scream reached out of his throat. Lifting his G41. He began depressing the trigger as fast as it could allow. Bullets tore into its chest. With every crack of his rifle, the beast staggered with every impact, losing its grip with every penetration. It howled in pain, swiping again. It was not given the chance, as the swift buzz of a Russian sub machine gun. The sheer volume and rate of fire, disoriented the beast further. It soon lost it's footing, falling towards the ground floor. Jurgen quickly picked up Otto. The smell and feeling of blood, dripping off his wound. Helping him across the walkway. He looked ahead to see double doors open and inviting. helping Otto across, he made it there as Detlef and Gunther, closed the doors. Both of them started to push a machine in front of it. Trying to buy more time.

With a hard thump, the machine grinned on the ground. Doors opening slightly. "That's not going to hold them back." Spoke Gunther replacing an empty mag. "We need to hurry." Gunther grabbed Otto with Jurgen. Composting his weight, they began to drag him across the hallway. His pained grunts and groans sounded every few seconds. Fritz kicked a door open pointing to get in. Running in they started too barricade the door. Pushing dressers, lounge chairs and a desk. With there small job done. They retreated deeper into the cubicles.

"Put... put me down" Otto seethed out with pain. Holding his wound. "I can't go any farther. Just let me... rest for a few seconds." he wheezed out. "Gunther check his wound. Detlef, keep that machine gun trained on that door." He nodded setting up the bipod. Keeping his sights towards the clattering barricade.

"This isn't good Jurgen. The dam thing cut him cleanly through his skin. I can't stop the bleeding. I don't, have, the right equipment to help him. DAM IT." He yelled searching his person and the others. Suddenly the right wall started to cracked open. towards there left, two of those wolves ripped through. Charging head long into the cubicles. Jurgen and Gunther snapped their weapons, opening fire in hopes to kill the beats fast enough.

Fritz raised his bolt action rifle next to him, as a shot rang out. Jurgen being close to the loud crack. Deafeningly his hearing started to ring out in protest. He instinctively flinched, grimacing at his eardrums popping. He lost sight of his target from that distraction. The beast on the right fell forwards sliding across the floor.

Jurgen could barley hear the muffled buzz of the MG34 and the repeating cracks of the MP40 going off. He looked around, trying to find the others. A muffled scream could be heard as he looked behind him and the others where. screaming out firing. Then he saw it. It was Otto being dragged away. He screamed out, desperately holding onto anything he could grab. Holding onto a pillar he reached out his right hand to them. Sound came back to him in a less then muffled noise. "Don't. Let them take me! Don't. leave me." he cried out. The beats maw digging into his leg. It pulled and tug at him, trying to pry him away, from the others. His fighting will became a losing battle as his grip faded from him. Crying out, the wolf pulled him off. Beginning too drag him further away, away from him and his squad. Jurgen stood there watching it all happen.

He watched it dragged him away. Only too see it disappear beyond the broken wall as more rushed in. He could hear it. The sound of feared cries of agony and flesh torn apart. He looked over to his right, seeing a door. "We need to go. Now. Head towards that door over there Los Los!" He yelled out pushing Detlef and Gunther.

Smashing his shoulder first against the door, bashing them inwards. Rushing through they sharply turned right. Gunther running ahead, Fritz running beside Jurgen, he looked back to see Detlef lagging behind them. Fritz stopped to take a few pot shots at the charging wolves, not too far behind. Gunther turned around priming a model 24 in hand. Tossing the potato masher it clattered behind Detlef. "get up the stairs. Now!" the grenade blasted behind them. The floor shaking and crumbling beneath there feet. Gunther and Jurgen got to the stairs first. Turning around to see Fritz and Detlef struggling to keep up. With the floor crumbling beneath there feet as the floor caved in. Both of them where taken down a level. Disappearing through the thick dust and debris. Gunther grabbed Jurgen's shoulder as he waited to see if they made it or not. The wolves had started to claw there way up to them.

"The mission is over Jurgen." Gunther called out. "we need to get out of here, now!" As he started to pull Jurgen up to the fourth floor. Growls and scratching of claws, sounded behind them, there sub machine guns rattled back in defiance. Running through the halls, Jurgen reached for his last pocket artillery. Twisting the cap two times, he pulled the cord, tossing it behind them. Gunther took the lead, opening another door to reach the next level. They ran has hard and desperately through three more levels. Exiting out on the eighth floor, Jurgen was tackled through a wall from his left. The beast was clumsy as they crashed through the dry wall. With his PPSH held tightly, he let out a defiant roar shoving the barrel up into its chest. Still he let his defiance escaped his throat as the beast was gutted. Wounded and dying it collapsed on top of him. It's massive weight pinning him down. He could feel it crushing him, the way he felt his lungs burn and the bones pressing down. still the beast was far from deaths door, it was breathing slowly. Taking in breaths of what it could take. With his arms pinned, he could do nothing. Only the sounds of the horde running past him, completely unaware of his sent or presence.

Jurgen laid there for what felt like hours. His breathing was nothing short of a ragged wheeze or short breaths. He could feel the beast on top of him but it's weight began to dissipate slowly. Removing the unwanted weight holding him down. Waiting until it was no longer on top of him and a manageable size. Hoisting himself on shaky knees, he slowly made his was out. Stumbling through the desolate halls like a drunk. once again he took in what was around him. There was no sound, no presence of those damed beasts of hell. Stumbling through the halls, his hand brushing the wall to support his sore lungs and body. Stopping at an opened door on his right. He look to see a bloody mess and the tattered remains of a uniform. Stumbling over towards the bloody pile on the other side. He stopped near the fleshy mess. Slowly he reached into the desecrated pile. Pulling out a Erkennungsmarken With Gunthers name written on the small oval shaped tag. He stood up once again walking towards the large window over looking a forest and a river below.

He slumped against the glass. The radio pack slamming into the harden glass. It was now useless, just like him. It started so small as whimpers escape his throat. He held onto his helmet, grasping it hard against him. Trying not to feel weak in his current state. But it came like a dam, he cried out in pain, agony and sorrow. Thumping his head into the glass behind him. He failed them, just like in the battle near Moscow and the failed retreat back from the boshaviks. Then he heard it... faintly. The sound soon grew louder, he remembered that sound. It was the sound of high heels clicking on solid stone. Securing his empty PPSH tightly on its strap. Looking back down to the fleshy pile he spotted a PO8 Luger laying there. He grasped the pistol alining it's sights where the growling was, to his surprise of what he saw. It disturbed him greatly, there a woman stood, clear as the setting sun, shining through behind him. Her stance demanded respect and fear, her skin was so pale that it looked like bone white paint. His hands was shaking, her eyes... her eyes was the same hellish colour as those demons. She stood there looking into his own steel blue orbs. Then she spoke a voice that held malevolent intent. "Hmm you are very short for someone like you to hold, so~... much hate that's almost intoxicating. Just like the others." She let out a small shudder "the way, the very air around here caught most of my children. It practically sent them into a frenzy."

At that response his hands stopped and his expression hardened into a fierce scowl. "Those abominations are yours..." the very air around him shifted. Raising the PO8 towards her, while his left hand reached behind himself. laying his hand on top of the two potato mashers. She slowly rose an eyebrow, seeing his expression changed to one of anger.

"Yes the others... or should I say. Two conflicting factions." Moving to the side of the door, allowing entrance to the abomination. It stood there looking at him, his burning red eyes.

Slowly he twisted one of the caps, preparing his plan of attack. Breathing hotly through gritted teeth. "You... killed. Them. All. You're crime, will come to terms now!" Snapping the pistol towards this witch. He let it barked out twice, swiftly the beast moved forth, taking the rounds for its master. Grasping his two grenades in one hand pulling the cord.

"You want me!" He bellowed out in Rage. It filled his voice, his eyes blazing with absolute hate. A growl was what he got in return. "Well, I'll make you work for it!" Tossing his two grenades. They clattered across the floor. That witch reacted immediately, as she left. The wolf disregarded its own life, charging head long into him. Jurgen let out a fearless war cry, as he unloaded the pistol into the on coming beast.

The grenades exploded behind it's back. He could feel everything move slowly, and his senses heightened. How the shock wave washed over the skin, rippling through his muscles and bones. It hit him like being near a flak38 firing. It was a strange feeling. It pushed the beast forth. The large mass of kinetic force thump against his chest. The once glass window, shattered behind them. The wolfs body flung helplessly over him. Both man and beast started to feel gravity asserts itself. Falling from the fourth story complex. He could see the vast forest that stretched far into the horizon.

He could feel the weight of gravity pulling him down. Like some being, dragging him back to punish him, all over, again. He could not help but smiled. Feeling weak as his fatigue pulled at his sore muscles and spirit. The crushing force of the water encased him, like a familiar friend. The harsh crash took him under. He looked up, seeing the suns rays distorted above him. The water invading his open mouth. The feel of it familiar and yet comforting the deeper he sank

(Will you make him fight or die? Fight? continue to next chapter. Die? keep reading.)

Water still invaded his nose and lungs. He could fight it. He can. Fight it!. Yet the failure of the battles he took and the brothers he lost over three years. How much blood was spilt? How many bodies that fathers and mothers must bury?. Weakness continued to claw at him painfully. Yet, he allowed this familiar touch too take hold of him. It was inviting... it felt like he could rest peacefully for the first time. The sweetest relief of finally... finally letting go of all the pain and suffering.

With his death and the two oppositions of the Red army and the Reich. Will remain a mystery. Only there relics will be there for the populace to discover, their mighty machines of war from two superpowers. In the remains of this desolate city, that will stand tall as a tomb stone for the unknown souls. The world will never know what happened only leaving a fleeting footnote that will be forgotten.

Authors note.

I make custom cabinets with the guys and its for a hotel will update slowly will speed up around early fall or middle of fall till the end of winter that is when the shop is dead basically.

And here we go and I will edit some parts on my day off soon and will switch around certain weapons and sorry for the long wait I ain't letting this die I have put too much effort and study into this.

Edited on December 11th


	4. 4

Prolonged 4

With the water still invading his body. He could feel himself giving up. But a small voice cracked out. "You think, that this is you're end?. Fight on Jurgen Fight it!." That familiar voice called out to him. How long has it been?. Since he last heard those words. Then like a fire, his spirit reignited. Fighting his way out, from deaths grip. This will not be his grave! This will not be his fate!. Like an animal, he thrashed his arms and swam up. Getting closer towards his freedom, his lungs burned, his heart beating slower. Bursting through the water like a hazed dream. He flailed his arms to keep him above the water. His equipment heavy as they are weighed him down. Immediately he looked around, trying to find something to hold on. Looking left right and behind him. He spotted some drift wood, floating towards him. With his strength wavering, he desperately reached out, grabbing hold and hoisting him self up. He began to cough out water. But it wasn't enough to get rid of it all. He felt tired weak and cold. With heavy eyes and shallow breaths. He could not fight the overwhelming fatigue, slowly they closed. His mind seemingly to drift off.

The call of battle rang out. Shells screaming out their songs into the darkened sky. Flashes of lightning and thunder, mixed their destructive melody, along with the hellish orchestra. The field was lit as lightning streaked across the sky. It's thunderous clash sounding over twisted metal and smouldering wrecks. With the mightiest clashing there swords. Four armoured giants, clashing their harden steel, with every flash and spark. They've skittered over harden steel or pierced through thin plates to wound one another. The muzzle flashes of guns and the clattering of rifles, machine guns, sub machine guns, artillery pieces and the rumbling tanks. Guns firing with a thunder clap or the screams of shells raining on the land.

The land now plagued with war, is nothing but another place, to spill more blood. Trenches engraved along the hill. The army clad in green and brown, holding onto the hill for what it was worth. Trenches filled with men willing to die for the motherland. Machine gunners and riflemen stood in knee high mud. The M1937 anti tank guns, laying within protective barriers. Alongside with light mortars and the dreaded heavy M1938 mortar.

Away from the hill stood three cultural divisions clad in Grey and black uniforms. Beyond the frontlines a new armoured fiend approached slowly. Clad similarly as the three giants. But they way it marched and held its shield, the way it sang through rain and mud. Underneath it's steel helm held a fire unmatched by it's allies. The column of panzers, armoured cars and trucks advanced slowly.

It stopped out side the reds effective firing rang. Disembarking the troops, they began to form up effectively behind there light and medium panzers. The leading panzer IV Ausf G's top opened, allowing the Hauptsturmführer to come out. The rain pitter pattered on steel and cloth, turning he spoke loud and clear. "Comrades!" Yelled out the man, standing on top of his panzer IV asuf G. "Our allies!. The Slovakian's, Hungarian's and the Romanian Legionnaires, have failed to take this position for the past 2 weeks!. We the das Reich of Germany! will show them how to sweep over this futile attempt with success!." His voice grew louder, with every word, rallying his troops. "We will show them and the world. Why we are the best!. That the Fatherland has to offer!." He got down, sliding back into the panzer. "I will lead the first assault. I want grenadiers to clear out those nests, once we breached far enough."

The shrill of a whistle rang out. With a roar, the first line of panzers moved forward. soldiers, infantrymen...brothers. Ran up behind the panzers, as tracers skipped or strike across metal. Machine guns rattled from the top with quick flashes. Rifles cracking into there opposition with reckless fanaticism and zeal, mortars sang high and true. The clap of small caliber anti-tank rounds soared through the air. Only to come up short, splashing mud up from the closing German war machine.

The panzers made there slow crawl. Slowly behind them, was the Waffen SS infantry providing covering fire to suppress Ivan. With every ground taken, one soldier will falter from the now panicking Russians. They deathly held onto the dirt mound, with everything, they've got. With there increasing ferocity like a cornered animal. The German war machine, claimed more and more ground with every step. Through thick mud and the uneven terrain. The three hundred meters they've made up this hill. The German troops started to feel the offensive force radiating from the dug in rat's. anti-tank rounds beginning to threaten, there rolling shields, rounds sparking off from shots that where too wide. While others started to receive burning holes. or shells that could not penetrate the frontal armour. Leaving shallow indentations or a hole. There where shots, that where directed to stop them, tearing into the caterpillar tracks. Armour ballistic shells ripping them apart or destroying the sprockets themselves.

With the last one hundred meters before them. Jürgen ran forthwith as storm troopers rushed ahead. grenades armed and primed, with machine pistols spraying lead with abandoned accuracy. The bolshevik's took cover or braved the assault. With dirt splashing marking there impacts and splintering wood breaching or splitting in front of them. Within the two seconds of there charge, potato mashers where sent flying true or saturating into there trenches.

Screams coming from the panicking bolshevik's could've been heard. The storm troopers ducked for cover, hugging the dirt. holding there helmets closer than necessary. A series of concussive explosions rippled through the dirt. Screams, blood and wood showered over the low trenched earth.

Jürgen raised his head afterwards as others jumped in. Taking the opportunity, he scrambled towards his feet jumping into the shallow trench line. Raising his machine pistol, stock laying gently into his shoulder. The small entrenchment was filling in with sturm troopers. Taking cover as they spread out enough, to prevent mass casualties. He took the lead as seven men followed him over the top. Rounds venomously whispered by his ears and the pained Yelp from his comrade. Mortars viciously sang there songs, mud splashing at every shot or impact around them.

Charging once again, following his fellow brothers. Ivan holding strong onto a wooden bunker, a steel plate fell. Revealing a heavy Russian machine gun, Jurgen knew it was the DShK it's large frame and the the box of 12.7mm rounds hanging there. He realized that he was charging Into the maw of the bear. But like an iron eagle diving with it's steel talons open for the kill. He had to carry through with his attack. Heavy caliber rounds thumped into its steady beat, tearing into flesh and bone. Screams of the dead and the cries of agony from the lucky few that survived. It cut through the air, behind and around him.

The DShK was ripping his men apart, and he could only move forward. Sharp flashes and the steady beat coming from that wooden bunker. With every step he took within the hundred meters he made, faintly he could see the gunner twisting wildly. Finally he saw the sights aligned, it was pointed at him. The gunner showed his displeasure with a hardened scowl on his battled harden features. Jürgen could feel his heart stop with eyes wide but the round never came. He saw the Russian gripping the handles and the charging bolt, trying to get out a shot from it. With the gap closed he jumped on top of the wooden bunker, spraying lead into the entrenchment. With a potato masher primed, he tossed it into one of the bunkers slits.

Jumping off, he followed the assault group. They where gathering further towards the front, taking the Bolsheviks head on. The bunker bellowed out dirt and soot as other grenadiers cleared out what was left behind. The Reich's finest held the frontline as the Soviet bear charged head long. Long bolt action rifles, with thin bayonets being used as spears. The Reich putting up a quick but lacking defensive line. The red bear swiped at the iron eagle. Flesh and steel clashed, rifles thrusting into cloth and flesh, wooden stocks clashing with metal. Taking aim with his MP40, letting loose a torrent off at the charging reds. Two Soviet riflemen fell before him, turning he saw one running at him without a weapon. The MP40 made a horrific click. The red grasped the barrel and the stock, locking him and Jürgen in a power lock. They swung their might around, trying to gain an advantage. Jürgen's opponent made the first mistake, in a botched kick he over extended. With a swift strike to his kneecap, allowing Jürgen the killing blow. Ripping the MP40 away, with fluent motions it came back. With the stock connecting towards his jaw a sickening crack emitted from impact. Quickly he recovered from the blow. Biting pain shot through Jürgen's hand, grip slacking. The Russian capitalized taking away his machine pistol.

Backing away Jürgen reached towards his back. Finding the small shovel he always kept, unclasping the tool. It was sharpened on one side and serrated teeth on the other. Swinging the trench tool cut cleanly across the mans chest. Before Jürgen could place the final blow, a bayonet pierced him. Regaining his senses, he saw more of his men flooded the Russian's counter offensive locking it down to a slaughter of close combat. There is no honour, no elegance or a fair fight.

Jürgen with his shovel raised, charged behind a Russian locked in a grapple. Swinging down the teeth biting into his shoulder, pulling back, twisting his body. He Brought him down to his stomach, forcefully prying the shovel off his victim. The man beneath his boot squirmed and yelled in pain, blood mixing with the mud.

With Jürgen's shovel freed, raising it again to swiftly come down mans head. Embedding into his skull. Placing his boot on the corpse, prying his weapon free, he ran head first into the bloody fight. Shells still rained into the field at a slow trickle.

A mortar shell screamed above landing into the jumbled mess of bodies. The force knocking Jürgen into the muddy ground. Dazed, sore and bleeding.

He looked around, trying to make heads or tails of his situation. Looking up he saw a female clad in the green colours of the enemy. A battle cry left her throat, rifle held tightly. The thin steel on the rifle. piercing through cloth, entering his upper right bicep missing his heart. He looked up towards her. Her face held a fierce look in her cold emerald eyes, dirty brown hair looking down to him. Rage coursed throughout his body as he lunged at her.

Bolting upright, his breathing coming out of his seething teeth. A nurse with chestnut hair wearing a blue uniform was in front of him. His hand was locked around her throat. ("Die dogs of Stalin! I'll put all of you down!.") He yelled out. His grip more firm and closing the gap. Fear seeped into her core looking into his cold dead steely eyes. She tried and tried again to break his grip, tears streaming down her cheek, fearing for her life. His face a harsh battle hardened scowl, seeing not a boy but a man that went through hell.

Several more nurse and a doctors rushed in. Trying to pry his iron grip from the suffocating nurse. They called out to him, shaking him to snap him out. But one revive a jab into the stomach, the nurse crumpled over. With no other choice the doctor called out. Hurriedly a nurse ran to his side with a syringe, injecting the sedative. Jürgen growled out in pain as his mind began to be foggy his body going limp.

Slowly he let out a low moan. Trying to register and gather up his state of mind. Pulling his hand up to sooth the pain, only to be met by force. Slowly his senses came back, too slowly. He could feel the set of straps around his arms, wrist, chest and the legs. The door opened with a creek on hinges that haven't gotten a good oiling. A nurse walked through, only to stop dead in her tracks. He could see it within her eyes the hesitation and the fear.

("Good day") he tried to sound friendly. But came out as a choked form, from a dry throat.

The nurse placed down the tray she carrying on a small table. She began to call for the doctor. Soon afterwards, the doctor came through. He stood there carefully watching the young man with a inquisitive eye. "How are you feeling today, stranger?" he asked.

Hearing the english tongue spoken from him. His muscles tensed, his breath hitched. ("Doing well I suppose. Could be better, without being strapped down.") Looking at the nurse and doctor, all the while holding a fake smile.

("So you speak Solitas. But the question remains, how did you end up in that stream?") pulling a chair next to him, while flipping through Jurgen's medical paper. ("So... what did you do.?")

Watching him carefully as best as he could. Letting out a tired sigh, then taking a deep breath. ("Me and my men... we where supposed to set up a radio beacon. To reach out to command or any one within the vicinity.") As he spoke but he was just staring forward. With a look as if he could see through the wall. ("The city of Stalingrad was overrun, by the red tide. The order to retreat was hell... just like operation Barbarossa... the evacuation was fruitless. the reds had already broken through our lines, our allies where decimated or routed. The Romanians, Hungarians, Italy and Croatia. The city was starting to be crawling with them. We gathered stragglers, lost men or the routed. So we had a small amount of two hundred... and only fifty of us chosen to remain behind. To halt Ivan... or go out fighting till our last breath") his breath shuddered recalling his recent event.

Looking to the good doctor, watching his unreadable expression. ("I have no idea if you are lying... or telling the truth. but they way you spoken about it, seems to be that... or you're the best dam storyteller or bullshitter.") he let out a puff of air, slumping slightly. ("Well do you remember anything else?") Pulling himself up next to him, loosening the straps.

("No. I do not remember much, when that hellish wolf knocked me through the window.") A low chuckle escaped through his mouth, with a small smile. ("Took the bastard with me.") siting up rubbing gently around the irritated skin.

("You mean the Grimm?") he asked then stopped ("you said building and a city of Stalingrad? The closest city was mountain glenn. So that's where you came from. What where you doing there?. Absolutely no one lives there, nor do they have any military operations taking place.") Skepticism seeped onto his features. Standing up the doctor took his leave, before Jürgen stopped him.

("Do you still have my equipment somewhere?") he politely asked from his position.

The good doctor watched him carefully weighing his options. ("Yes we do but they are under lock and key for now. But the weapons and equipment are... how should I say lacking certain parts. But I have never seen the way it has a cross an eagle and the dual thunderbolts. And I can not forget that arm banner pure red white and a black X with four protrusions going in a clockwise matter.")

("I need to see if I still have the trinkets and my journals still) he spoke levelly.

("No you will see them when you are better. And I have another thing to say.") he looked back at him ("You have P.T.S.D. As how I know. You where choking one of my nurses. Hence why you where strapped. You are lucky that she is not pressing charges.") he spoke but didn't get a reaction out of it other then a nod. (Jugging by that. I guess you knew about it your condition and that you dodged a bullet.")

Jürgen spoke up ("she has every reason to be mad and press charges. But it confuses me that she hasn't. It is unjustifiable of what I did.") The doctor nodded his head, before he walked out with the last say. ("Doctors orders are to stay and let your body rest.") He spoke. Leaving Jürgen to his own devices. Looking over the small room at spot a journal and a pencil.

Unknown date 1942

"I'm worried about that nurse, how could I have done that. My mother would have slapped me till my cheek was red and raw. My father would have just given me a slap on the hand. He never really cared how he treats anything. I remember that my mother told me, that he respected her and loved her with his heart. That was before, the Great War. after that. He changed into some stranger she has never met. The man she loved, was nothing more than a husk of his former self. But his love for her was there. But he hardly showed it. He practically ran his fathers business into a new level of cruelty. It was unjust and harsh but with the Great Depression. I can not fault him for such actions. But his manufacturing plant survived and turned into a masterful armament working force. Giving the poor hard working force labor a placeholder to give them strength and a purpose.

Yet. I have no idea where I am now, so I cannot trust anyone here... if I am in a new land or the latter. I can not let my guard down. I must remain vigilant and rely on my instincts for now. I must find my bearings and gather intelligence. It will be hard to suppress my zealous pride. From all the battles that made me a harden fighter for the Fatherland. I need to play it safe... for now. Once I gather enough to sedate my iron blood and have a firm foot hold, I will find a way to the Fatherland."

February 12th 1942

"It has almost been a week since my fall. I have been given the ok... but the bill was a problem. Thankfully I still had gold on me. I got it from a run down Jewish owned bank. I still remembered when we began our assault against the motherland. How everything went perfectly and as planned. I gave them the small golden bar for payment. Turns out it was a bit more than what I was paying. I only asked them, to give me a small amount of Reichsmarks. I guess it wasn't the smartest thing to say. Should've known that currency was vastly different here, than what was the Fatherlands currency. I still have more gold located within my journal, in a secret compartment. But I am left with nothing... for now I have some of the locals currency and my homeland. Since my stay here, I have gathered some material to gain a bit of a foot hold. It's not much to go by... it's better then nothing though."

Leaving the small two story community hospital. Jürgen took in his surroundings. Taking note of the rather large town. In the far distance he could see an opposing wall just about a few kilometres away. Surprisingly to see it stretched as far as he could see. Wondering what, it's main purpose supposed to provide?. He shook his head, ridding the stray thoughts. Proceeding towards the town, his steps crunching or clacking on the partially covered stone pathway. Years of service to the Fatherland and marching alongside his fellow Schutzstaffel. Has affected of how he walk, just like breathing. He walked with a purpose, a strong presence that he revelled in, with the thundering sound of boots, tracks grinding under German steel and a song. Sung by the thousands of troops singing from the heart and with pride.

That was one of the many things. He will miss dearly, his stance faulting ever slightly at the realization. With a shake of his head banishing the gloomy thoughts. Looking up towards the town only to see that he was walking through the street. The street was busy with people lulling about, with out a care to the outside world. It brought a small smile from Jurgen, watching them mulling through the market but it soon dissolved into a slight scowl seeing Negro's milling with the local whites. He's seen Negros before in the heart of Germany. At least there number was small and manageable, but they did not warrant the wrath of the Schutzstaffel.

He watched them carefully, seeing if they pulled something. But Jürgen shook his head, they maybe Negros, but they help him and the Schutzstaffel root out the pests in the past. They know that the path. That Germany is paving into the future, For all of Europe. But that will have to wait even if it pulls at his instinctive heritage. With a shake of his head, turning towards a small building. That the hospital staff, heavily recommended. The state of his combat fatigues was worsened since what they where in Stalingrad. He needed a replacement and a few more for when the situation calls for it.

With renewed vigour, his steps and his stance changed considerably towards his destination. Easing through the crowd. The Life and familiarity that sounded him brought a look of nostalgia. Lost within his own musings, walking towards his intended target. Slipping in between an elderly couple with expensive clothing.

It was a mistake. Not noticing the girl, carrying an abundant amount of bags and boxes. He collided into her. Bags and boxes exploded, contents littering onto the street or clattering in hard concrete. A soft oomph escaped from the pile. Jürgen looked down towards the poor girl, her blonde hair disheveled her blue eyes looking up at him. Her large circular glasses slightly askew on her nose.

("I'm terribly sorry for that. Here, let me help you with this mess") he spoke kindly picking up the scattered boxes and loose contents back into there respective bags.

"I am terribly sorry young man." The elderly man said apologetically before turning towards the young blonde girl. "You should look where you are going young lady. And pick this up!" Yelled the man seeing the poor girl scrambling to gather everything.

Jurgen reached down helping her gather boxes and spilled continents. She looked at him with inquisitive eyes lasting only a second. Once all was gathered and neatly stacked they separated. he looked over to the couple (I am terribly sorry I was not looking and not aware of my surroundings.) he let out a small chuckle.

"I'm sorry what did you say?" The woman spoke looking towards her she was well within her early forties. Jurgen nervously cleared his throat taking his time to speak.

"I'm a-am sor-sorry I do not speak Engl-English that we-well." His thick Germanic tongue butchering the language. "But I was at fa-fau-fault here. I was lack of my surroundings." He spoke his look was caught between frustration and embarrassment.

""I must be off. I need my unifo-uniform repaired." Making his way to the small boutique. Before he could the couple stopped him.

"Sorry there lad. But the store is closed early me and my wife need a little bit of time away from work." Barking out a laugh turning making his way towards Jürgen. "What where you going to ask for?"

"A new set of clothing. Uniforms." He spoke with a bit of a struggle. looking up at the man smiling.

"Well, come around 8 am in the morning. And we will see if we can get something for you."

"Danke" as they turned heading away he let out a restrained slow breath his mood darkening at the Englishman and his wife. ("Ha. Even out here. I still can't seem to get a break." Speaking to no one in particular. Giving a weak chuckle to himself, making his way out of the large town.

He found himself ever near the park. For the better part of a few hours, he gradually walked. The ever setting sunsets dying light bathed the landscape in font of him. It's glorious touch like an artist on a canvas. It always surprised Jürgen what Mother Nature could do. Over the sight he spotted a weeping willow, alone and away from gazing eyes. Making the short distance slowly the sound of whimpering came forth from the tree itself. With cautionary steps as he unslung his PPSH 41 drawing closer. Gently parting the wet green drapes.

There a familiar young woman was huddled closely near the base of the tree. Her legs pulled tightly to her chest. It was a sight that made herself into a small pitiful ball. Slinging his machine pistol back. He took a very slow approach towards her. Her cries was that of sorrow, lost and pain. Quietly she spoke in just a small cracked voice. ("Brother I just wish you where her still. I miss your comforting touch and how you always say that everything will be alright.") Gently he placed his hand on her shaking shoulder. She stopped her small whimpers. Slowly her hand raised up gently placing her's top of his.

("Are you all right Fräulein?") he spoke softly. The late snow falling gently through the cool wind. Shifting his position to kneel down to her level, her hand softly grasping his. Not allowing him to pull away. ("Hey... are you okay") he spoke louder watching her as she looked into his eyes. The sight he saw made him grimace slightly. Seeing her expression, her eyes red and puffy. Her glasses skewered, gently he reached out taking them wiping her tears away and adjusting her spectacles.

("Can we go home?") she asked.

Jürgen let out a small sigh wondering how he got himself into this. ("Where too") he asked back, standing back up. Turning towards the exit as he waited for her to follow him out. He felt hands slinked around his neck and followed by a shifting weight on his back. ("That way, street 77 house number 435") she pointed resting her head on his shoulder.

The walk Jürgen made was silent. Taking in the cool spring wind the sight of many homes looking like the town of Bunzlau. Shifting the dead weight on his back getting himself more comfortable to carry.

Looking at the house or mansion just by the sheer size of it. He let out a scoff, seeing the size, his stance tensed up, as he came closer. With every step he took, he felt spite fill up within his heart. Looking over the fence seeing the numbers in gold 435. A light tap on his shoulder caught his attention. Turning slightly to see her dainty hand, gently she pointed towards a small home fit for a small family.

Knocking on the oak wooden doors. Listening carefully to the sounds of hushed voices and shuffling making there way towards him. Stepping back, the door opened to a sight that his left eye slightly twitched. There before him stood a man that had bore tusks jutting out. "Yes" his voice carried the high standing of a seasoned butler.

Turning he showed the now sleeping girl "ah young sunshine it's good to see she is alright" he said. Grabbing her by the stomach gently prying her off. With hidden strength her hold tightened, unconsciously tightening around his neck. Stopping, the butler moved to the open door, holding his hand out for him. Nodding stiffly Jürgen moved forth. Standing aside he allowed Jurgen to walk through before closing the door.

The walk was quiet. But Jürgen was taking in all of the details around him. Soaking information like a reconnaissance plane. Seeing men and women with animalistic traits. He spotted some that where obvious like ears, tusks, tails and very few was their eyes. The boar opened the last door on the right allowing him in. The room was standard fit for maids and servants, nothing special or unique in terms. Moving across the small room, shifting his stance, allowing him room to Lay the sleeping beauty on her bed.

"Do you have anywhere to sleep?" The butler asked. Standing at the door watching him sitting at the chair, his bag on the desk, uniform horribly maintained.

"Nee. I have... no where to go" he spoke with much difficulty, grimacing at his own take towards the English language.

Nodding "you may sleep on the couch for tonight, but I want you out of here at dawn." Without another word turning on his heels, walking out. Jürgen turned towards his bag, pulling out his four journals and began to write.

February 13th 1943

"I still can't believe that I am not on German soil anymore. For the first time... I have came to a bridge that I thought, I would never cross. Without the Fatherland, or any presence of the nazi party or any military branch. I'm just lost without them I need orders I need a path to follow again. Without it what am I supposed to do? It is something that I fear for myself and my pride!.

But these, abominations, these Untermensch. I feel disgusted being in the same house as them, my instincts and my time apart of the police force are screaming out to beat them and ship them out of our country or towards specific camps... but this isn't my country nor I am willing to bet what will happen. No I must play by the rules for now no matter how much it pulls at me.

But they maybe Untermensch or maybe not. I cannot judge them at first glance now. No. I will leave this thought for another time. I'm hungry, tired, and still weak. I must recover first then I will set a corse."

Authors note it's been too long and I know this was stuck on this dam part during his reawakening in the hospital stuck I tellya so I skipped it still writing as how he went and I think I could have done better but then it hit me from work when some one dropped something on top of me it hurt but it came at the same time and so this is how I came up with this.

And I have been heavily studying back to the good old days of 1900- 1950's and it's really... strange but lots to learn still. I need help on this realizing that I can not do this alone so I need help.

Edit on December 11th fixed hospital scene for better movement could still use improvement I think?


	5. 5

February 16th 1943

"It's been three days since I've recovered and gathered my bearings. I've even left that place behind at dawn. I left without a word, not wanting to spend more time, around such deformities. A human shouldn't look like that. It's even worse then the Jew's or the Bolshevik's. A taint that is more prominent, how did this deformity manifest itself?. But... I cannot stop and think of that young girl. she is infected by this strand, yet, it only affected her teeth, turning them into fangs. Yet she shouldn't be amongst the more prominent abominations, these... Faunus as I have shortly learned. She is more human then most of them. Yet she was slapped with a label claiming she is Faunus. In the fatherland, if we find a citizen half Jew with German blood and can trace back to there German roots, they can be a full fledged German citizens. That is if, they change there sir name towards there German family roots.

Currency is something that I must work on. This currency is very different then what I have on me. Everything here is very expensive. Such as when I purchased a soda can for a single dollar of lien. Well, at least it's not like in the Great Depression, where one dollar in U.S. currency was equivalent to 4.2 million Reich marks. It was a hard time, that I do not wish to live in again. and so I have begun working on fixing vehicles and repairs in side a small shop that I am currently renting. Finally all that work into maintaining and repairing trucks, cars and panzers are finally paying off now."

February 17th 1943

"The Nightmares are back in full force again. They have been, plaguing me for some time now... Ever since the failure of operation Barbarossa, and the hellish pit known as Stalingrad. The distant familiar sounds of screaming men, and my brothers perishing within my grasp. I still hold onto four rings. Four rings that I must give, as a farewell pledge. I wonder how, will I give there maidens there farewell pledge. It hurts just knowing that I hold on to these, and knowing that I knew what happened to them. They died fighting for Germany's good fortune. The familiar sounds of Russian panzers and the clattering of there god dam guns! And the worse one was the defining Screeching of Stalins Organ, playing out across the night sky!. I find myself waking up screaming or crying uncontrollably late at night. I don't get enough sleep, but when has that stoped me before.

My time away from the bloody fields is starting to get me. The Fatherland is in danger!. The red plague is spreading it's evil filth, and yet I'm stuck on this forsaken world!... it's a concept that I'm still trying to comprehend right now. Another world, ha, if only I could bring these news to the paranormal branch. They would ether believe me, or put me off for it.

But that young girl, Ivory, if I remember her name correctly. She always comes by my shop, she discovered it by chance. At first, it was just small talk. I could remember her trying to start a conversation with me. I only gave her vague or straight to the point answers. On the second day she finally got me, our talks where only mundane or about her most of the time.

She is a beautiful flower with her flowing blonde hair, the deep blue eyes that I could loose my self. It reminds me of that tavern near Frankfurt where the women there where beautiful. The beer, the bread and our boisterous mirth. Ha, I still remember that tavern, I miss it, and the lovely waitress.

Over the four days she had followed me. Asking questions and just generally checking up on me and my shop. The small workshop that I have under my name or I should say "borrowed". In exchange for the use, I have to give ten percent of my income. The man was... questionable, but we both held our ends of the deal. So far the populace says I am giving, a reasonable pricing range, compared to the other garage. Ha, I can remember the Neger charging into my "shop". The man had the Gaul, too threaten me!. but one good look at him brought me an instantaneous conclusion. He was a urchin, the condition of the vehicles that where "repaired" by him was atrocious. Ivan's crude engines are better then this patch work. Words where spouted from us, disturbing the peace. It felt Good seeing the Neger so devastated and furious. Even if it turned physical in plain sight, I would show him his place, in the most brutal way that the Schutzstaffel taught me. Sadly he left, spouting curses at me while leaving my shop.

It appears that my success, have brought more satisfaction to the people. With mechanical engineering and seven years of combat experience, I always chose the best quality in tools and resources for machinery. Quality is far superior then quantity. But it does bring problems to replace parts, many times after the fight or during a battle I had to repair the same god dam Panzerkampfwagen VI Ausführung H. Her engine was knocked badly when a T-34 blind sided her, We thought the entire crew was killed where she stuck them. The poor girl was battered severely. It was a long and frustrating fight to keep her in action, we couldn't interchange her parts with any of the others. That is one thing, that having quality is a double edged sword. With the usage these people handle there wagen's and with proper maintenance it should last them for quite some time.

But Ivory... she checks on me when ever she finishes her, "duties" I call it a hazard. No one should be working like that!. It pulled at my heart, seeing her in such a state when she walked right into my shop, bloodied and full of cuts.

I treated her wounds with the resources I had, which wasn't enough to fully relive her pain. It made me to prioritize the more severe injuries on her body. I had to ask how she ended up in such a state.

Turns out that one of the staffs suffered an injury, so they chose her for a job that was far beyond her skills. With her wounds patched, I took her to the hospital getting her checked on for further injuries, thankfully there wasn't anything, other then what I helped with her serious wounds.

It turns out that this wasn't the first time that this happened. No. There's an entire file about the work injuries, that frequently happens. My father would throw a fit if this happened within his factories. He was well known for being a cruel man in the Industrial Age, But he would never risk the lively hood of his fellow workers. He see's them not as parts or tools you could carelessly throw away. No, he made his views on them as the industry's lifeblood, a heart that beats. The men that works under him, they see him as a man that fights for there equality within the industrial world, a silent workhorse. I convinced him to help our movement, he agreed with some hesitation. After a yearlong fight, he gave the weak, the lost and the homeless another chance. Rallying them under the banner of our glorious Führer. I couldn't help but too see my father as a respected man with no equal.

The work that Ivory and a few handful where put through tore at my spirit. A working environment that almost mimics that crude system that the Soviet Union is so fond of. I have been to the estate on a few occasions, I still couldn't look at the Faunus as equals, but that changed when I carefully examined them, beyond there extraordinarily animalistic traits. I saw it. There are a few of them that looked like the very people of The Fatherland!. it pained at my German heart. They may not look like regular humans, but I didn't see any that looked remotely Jewish. Yet.

She says that she is a Faunus, but the only abnormality I could see on her, is her elongated fangs. It is one deformity that can be easily looked past in our books. Bah, I told her that she carried the blood of a proud child from the Fatherland. A German at heart. She should stand tall and proudly proclaim her desires. And show them that fire, that fire which burns so brightly within.

She was confused of what I have said. but that look in her eyes, that shimmered with hope. It was the same shine that I held once, when our Führer stood high above us, asking the people for a change!. Asking for our courage, for our strength to unite all of Europe under one banner!."

A soft knock on steel shook Jurgen out of his writing. Putting the pencil down as he looked towards the clock, only reading 10:47 am. ("strange, I don't have anyone coming in, nor picking up at this hour, or today.") Pulling himself out of his small work desk, he stopped just before the door. Slowly he reached towards the upper left shelf. On the outside it looked like he was leaning. But in truth, it was where his C96 Mauser pistol stood holstered, and armed with a bullet already in the chamber. Pulling a thin sheet out of the way on his right, was a small mirror that reflected off two more with the view in the top left door. There stood Ivory her short flowing blonde mane was all he could see. Letting out a small breath of a sigh, he holstered back his pistol, leaning away preparing himself. Opening the door he immediately felt her collide into him. Though he despises his own height, he could not argue that it came with a few... perks. Freeing himself from Ivory, his chin just a mere breaths away from her breasts. Looking up he saw the same Fräulein, her arms lazily resting on his shoulders. With a very large grin on her naturally predatory expression, going so far too show off her fangs down to him.

She looked into his blue eyes, her smile widening more with her fangs more prominently poking out. Her blonde hair tied in a braided ponytail. ("Good morning Jurgen!. How are you today!") she spoke with a giddy accent, while letting go and taking a few steps inside. the sight that greeted her was the workshop in its controlled chaos state.

He allowed a small chuckle to escape his mouth. Rubbing her back and slowly patting her shoulder, ("good, good. It's been slow today, but I have nothing going on right this instant or in the afternoon. Why is that?, something happening today Ivory.") his small smile never leaving him. Turning back into his shop crossing the cluttered room.

He looked over to see Ivory looking down at his journal. Immediately crossing the small gap, reaching swiftly he closed the hardened book. Her body reaction was instant, jumping with a startled gasp she turned to look down at him. ("It would be wise if you'd asked for permission beforehand, then looking into my personal belongings.") his words carrying the authority from years of professional soldiering.

Her deep blue orbs quickly locked into his steely glassy eyes. Her body shifted, conveying the very expression she showed. Slightly slouching, her happy domineer faltering. ("I-I'm sorry Jürgen.") immediately Jürgen placed a comforting hand on the shoulder.

("No.") he sighed softly, shifting his body. Shaking his head. ("Forgive me of my behaviour, I shouldn't have spoken like that.") He let out a small smile. ("My mother would have scolded me for such actions.") Looking up, he gently squeezed her shoulder before walking towards his quarters.

changing into his new uniform. He couldn't hold back a sense of want. There in it's glory was his black SS fatigues, but... they weren't made by German hands, they did not held what the original had before the war. No, it was just a cheep knockoff that did not look right at all, his heart yearned for this missing link. With it's red and white trimmings in the wrong areas, the rank and the thunderbolts where placed in the wrong place. Instead the thunder bolts where now located on his shoulders. His divisions number and name was far too large on the back, Das Reich was written across from shoulder to shoulder. The two was below it, written in cursive. It looked too much like civilian clothing then military.

He let out a longing sigh seeing it. He used the ratty fatigues he wore in that god forsaken graveyard. Gently placing it aside, away from two extra uniforms. Comfortably shaking his head, Opening the small drawer at the bottom, there his shinny black boots stood proudly and cleaned.

Letting a soft exhalation, tuning as the fabric softly rubbed his skin, boots clacking sharply. With the mirror standing before him, his reflection mimicking every movement. His clean cut face, neatly shaven hair. The reflection Looking back at him. He felt a spike of hateful wronging seeing the uniform he wore. It was a mockery towards The Fatherland! His face twisted into discuss, he felt as if he just spat in der Führer's face!. for once he felt that his pride hit a new low.

How could he show himself like this?. The fatherland demanded respect! Not mockery. Even if the uniform was pressed ironed, and not a single wrinkle could be seen. His Iron cross hung onto his left Brest and the smaller cross hung around his neck, they gleamed proudly, but not him.

Checking himself once over in the mirror his frown faded. What stood before him, was a boy, no higher then 5'5 almost like he was back in time when Hitler finally became the Führer of The FatherLand. He gave a shallow chuckle ("I feel nine years younger now. and I look like it.") he let a dry chuckle escape his throat. ("what happened to me?") Thinking out loud. Shaking his head, looking for more imperfections, once satisfied he clicked his boots together, with a turnabout. Leaving his sparse living courters.

Seeing Ivory still walking around the shop, soaking in all her surroundings like a sponge. Her pace came towards a slow crawl, shifting her gaze towards the sharply dressed man. ("Wow. You look perfect in that uniform!.") Her smile was of many things that Jürgen was found of. But he couldn't argue about her attire. No woman would be caught, wearing what she has. Shorts that hug her just sinfully right and some what modest, but it put her legs in full display towards the world. It's not hard, that Jürgen can note a well developed body. Like many that he and his division was graced through the Fatherland , Austria, Poland and France.

With a shake of his head, banishing the pleasant thoughts for another time, ("Is there something important today Ivory? Because you never come around my humble little shop if it's an injury or when you're done working.") stopping alongside her at the entrance.

She patiently waited for him at the door. ("And yes, today's my birthday!") she spoke giddily jumping around, the tools clattered in protest due to her actions. Reaching up placing his hand on her shoulder letting off a small chuckle, she stopped pulling back with him, towards the door. ("Ready?") she asked opening the door.

("Ya, I am.) Leaving his shop Jürgen couldn't help but take in the quaint little town with a population of just a little under two thousand souls. Just like the others he passed in Poland and France. But there was a stark difference that this one had. Negers openly walking about. It's not them that bothered him, no. It was the female populace, that many of which loves to show off their skin and attire that was made easy for his eyes. It seems typically acceptable here. Then anywhere else in all of Europe. (So... where too?.") he asked walking beside her basking in the mid evening sun above them.

(Oh, I just need to stop by and say hello to my friends.) her answer came swiftly along with the sudden turn. (He's working right now, but he will be on break in about ten minutes or so.) The street was filled with several shops opened, people and vehicles milling to and fro. The life teeming through this town pulled his Germanic heart. Ivory pulled him along increasing his steady pace, boots clacking in sync on the cobblestone street.

It wasn't far in his opinion but the store before him and Ivory held instruments. They were alien, yet there's a few familiar and intimate instruments that he wouldn't see if he survived the war. ("Come on Jürgen you'll love this place and his assistant!") She pulled him harder, dragging him through the door. The first thing that hit him was how deceivingly large it was on the inside. It was quiet, peaceful in a sense from the lines of guitars ranging from acoustic, electric and bass. In a separate area was the strings of violins, viola's, cellos, double bass and fiddles.

He spotted Ivory walking towards the frontier. There, at the front was a fair maiden. One that could've been found in Poland. Light flowing auburn hair that reached her shoulders, a pair of rounded spectacles gracing her soft rounded cheeks and face. Ivory stopped in front of her, she let out a shy smile when they met. ("Hi Różowy is Yvon on his break yet?")

She nodded her head pointing towards the back of the store. She spoke so quietly that Jürgen couldn't hear them where he was. ("Thanks Różowy") Ivory hugged her, but he could see the blush on her cheeks where he was. ("Oh I almost for got I like you too meet Jürgen.") she moved aside allowing her and him to see face too face. Jürgen gave her a small smile reaching out his hand, she started to play with her hair... no it wasn't her hair, it was ears. Not just any ears too, they where long and floppy, and the way she was acting now.

Gone was his gentle smile twisting into a slight scowl across his hardening feature. She. Was. A. Rabbit!. It was an immediate action as she quickly backed away, and so too did Jürgen, leaving behind a very confused Ivory.

Jürgen was furiously livid at this discovery, he suspected that a Faunus may have this disadvantage trait!. But seeing it before him in flesh was a different experience..

Through his short fit he saw a lone cello there. It stood tall in pride, showing off its craftsmanship from the glossy finishing on the body. Slowly, he reached out, softly brushing his calloused fingers along its neck, then across the string. Lifting it upright reviled a stool and the bow.

Getting comfortable with the instrument and taking a proper stance. Gently he gliding the bow in smooth and hard strokes allowing the first few notes to escape. It sounded off and unpleasant. With practiced ease, he retuned the cello playing a few notes, listening carefully with every tweak. Finally he was satisfied with the sound, he smiled softly as he began to glide the bow letting forth a tired sigh, the sound changed with his spirit and, his heart. His body took a toll as his shoulders slumped slightly his smooth movements broadcasting his emotions.

He stopped immediately, raising his unsteady hand seeing it shaking uncontrollably. Taking in a shuddering breath, releasing it with a shaken breath. He breathed in and out a few more times calming his body and spirit. How long has it been, since it happened then?

Once he calmed down, straightening his posture once again as the bow returned to rest. Carefully the bow ran gracefully across the strings as music played across the empty store. Jürgen was lost within his own world from a swift flick of the wrist, the cello sang deeply mimicking and portraying his emotions from his calm expression.

He played, further losing himself in his world. Taking him away from his troubled mind and old scars that still festered. Still the bow ran across, allowing the cello to hum it's next song. So lost he was, that when his bow stroked across last note. He felt a hand gently placed on his shoulder. Turning around to Face his assailant, too his surprise Ivory and that rabbit where behind him. Before Ivory could speak, the rabbit beat her too it. "What did you play?" Her voice was so soft spoken in English that Jürgen almost missed the question.

Not missing a beat he turned back to the cello, prepping the bow once again. "Cello suite No. 5 in C minor, Allemande." He spoken out with some difficulty, with slow deliberateness the cello left out a slow deep note before his hand shifted. "And now I play No. 5 in C minor Prelude."

"Jürgen." He tilted his head slightly, indicating that he was listening. Ivory then asked him "what was that about Jürgen?"

Still not missing a note he asked ("you need to be more specific Fräulein.")

She stopped her foot ("Jürgen! Over the past two weeks I've known you, you've never shown distaste towards other Faunaus. Actually you did show some hostility towards a few but they where assholes. How is Różowy any different.") she asked. The cello let out a screech as he stood up turning towards them.

He held a fierce scowl ("Let me tell you a story, but firstly tell me what you see?") he quickly pointed towards Różowy.

She held a shocked and confused expression, his finger just mere inches away from the rabbit. "Well I see, a hard working cute girl that some of us would die for. And how cute she is when her shyness gets the better of her." She spoke in a teasing tone. But the look that Jürgen had was nothing more than a deadpan expression.

But Jürgen still held his stance ("let me give you a more prominent hint. Her ears. Tell me what she is.") Röżwoy still stood there, hurt but he saw her eyes brimming with fear and hate.

Ivory let out an frustrating sigh "what do you mean Jürgen!" She stepped forward pushing his hand away. "She's a Faunus, nothing more." Pulling Röżwoy back a few paces.

Breathing through his nose ("what I se-") Ivory held up her hand "speak normally Jürgen" her voice carried an sharp edge.

Grunting he took another deep breath. "What I see is a rabbit, do you know what a rabbit represents in my homeland?." He watched both of them, looking into their eyes. "I'll tell you this, when I was younger, I remembered my time at the youth academy. How my teacher had a student pick between a fox or a rabbit, during one of our lessons. I already knew the answer, as did most of my peers, the poor boy chose the rabbit." He looked back to Ivory "Now tell me Ivory what does a rabbit represent?" She was quite for the time. "I'll tell you that our teacher was livid. Berating him for choosing such a weak animal." The girls flinched back at how his words bit harshly. "He asked us why?." He looked directly towards Różwoy "And I'll tell you. They are cowards, nothing but fragile things that will run at the first sight of danger. If you had a rifle or a machine pistol I will not rely on you to protect me in the face of our enemies Röwżoy. Our academy do NOT tolerate cowardice or the weak. They look for the strong willed and those that will give their lives for Germany!." Pride was brimming from his little speech thumping his hand into his chest. ("Sieg heil Viktoria.")

The Rabbit took a step forward hold a scowl. "What kind of huntsman academy teaches. No practice that line of work?."

Jürgen held his ground, looking back into her's. "They do not teach huntsmen. But we do have Jäger divisions, but that's not the point. The Hitler youth academy's train soldiers to fight those that disturbs Germany's good fortune." He looked towards the window a far away look replacing the harden mask. "There are two army branches the SS and the Wehrmacht. Only one has the academy." Slowly he reached for his cuffs only to feel nothing, there where no dual lightning bolts or the number that proudly displayed his division. A longing sigh escaped him, still looking deeply towards the horizon. ("Still. A rabbit is better then a maus.")

Röwżoy stepped forward. "What was it, that you said?." A low growl escaping her throat. He couldn't help but let a small chuckle escape his lips. "I said. At least you're a few steps above a Jew." Both of them had a confused look in there eyes. No words where spoken as he walked towards the entrance. ("Ivory I'll be waiting for you outside.") with that he closed the door.

Half an hour had past before Ivory stepped out. Jurgen could tell that she was mad, she pushed the shorter man quite a few steps, regaining his footing only to be pushed again. ("What is wrong with you!.") she yelled out in Dutch. A few passerby's looked towards them.

Jürgen paid no heed towards them, he kept silent for a few seconds. ("What do you mean?. I need you to be more specific Fräulein.") calm was his voice as he stared into hell itself, as his father said there is nothing worse then a woman's scorn. Quick as lightning he was facing towards the stores window, a burning sensation across his left cheek. (You know dam well what it is. I want you to go back in there and apologize to Röwżoy.") she pointed at the door.

Jürgen stood there for a short time. ("I still don't know what I did wrong.") he spoke again tuning slightly to look into her burning blue orbs. She let out a scoff. ("You better not be playing with me Jürgen.") she looked right back at him seeing his calm expression. ("Your not kidding are you.") letting out a sigh she rubbed her temple. ("Look how do I change your opinion about her.") she finally asked.

He tilted his head slightly towards the store. ("How do you change MY, opinion about her.") he asked, a chuckle escaped him. ("Well she needs to prove to me that she wouldn't run from a fight.") he held his hand up stopping her. ("Only fights that are winnable, not the ones where we are sure to lose. And going above and beyond her instinctive flaws as a rabbit. Finally she needs to earn my respect, but seeing that she is a female and a rabbit on top of that is nearly impossible. What I was taught in the Hitler youth academy, will never change.") He finished watching how she was quiet for a time, until she walked right past him.

Quickly he closed the distance, following in step with her at a respectable distance. Not a sound nor a word was spoken throughout their walk. It wasn't until they reached the park that Ivory spoke. (Where is it that you came from?") she stopped in a clearing turning to face him. There weren't many people that Jürgen could see. ("Where do I hail from?") He asked, a prideful and a longing look came over him. ("Brandenburg, Berlin. The heart of Germany, the Fatherland of all Germanic citizens.") he softly spoke, breaking eye contact to look at the rolling landscape. ("I am a proud child from the Fatherland Ivory, I've protected, and fought for Germany's good fortune for years.") breathing in deeply, he let it escape slowly, calming his shaken nerves.

Ivory wasn't blind, how she noticed his hand started to shake fiercely. Carefully he reached up holding his hand closely to his chest. For the next few minutes, she waited watching every move he made. ("Are you alright Jürgen?") she quietly asked. No response came forth, only the silence that he fell into. She moved closer, stepping in front to see a disturbing sight. Gone was everything she knew about him, it was like looking into a doll or mannequin. Orbs so far gone that they looked like glass just starring into the distance. ("Jürgen?") Still no response, taking a deep breath she reached out grasping his shoulder.

Like some one flicking a switch, he jumped Looking towards Ivory's worried face. ("Jürgen are you alright?") Looking down at his hand he breathed out. ("Ja I'm fine Fräulein.") It Greatly disturb Ivory how he smiled, it's as if it never ever happened. ("I'm sorry about the last two hours. Come on I'll buy you Lunch for you're present.") He walked off a few paces before tuning around an embarrassed smile. ("Do you have a place in mind. That you want to go?") Ivory came right next to him ("are you sure you're alright?") she asked once more. ("Ja Ja I'm fine Fräulein.") waving a hand dismissively. ("Come on, don't worry about me. It's you're day and I have to make it up.")

She knew that trying was futile with how he was acting. So she pulled him alongside her, heading for there next destination.

There walk took them about ten minutes through the park. Over that time Ivory kept a carful eye on Jürgen. Not once he showed that what ever happened no longer existed. Gone was the dead look and the chill her instincts picked up. ("Do you have a place in mind Fräulein?") Shaken out of her deep thinking, she smiled at the thought of there next destination. ("Yes I do. Come on it's not too far from here.") Jürgen smiled seeing her happy demeanour back again.

The streets where busy by the time they made it back. Ivory the fearless leader she is, pulled Jürgen through before stopping in front of the small restaurant. ("Big Z's grill and bar!") she waved her hand at the green painted building, bold golden letters showing It's menu, that he spotted a few Italian and Greek dishes. ("Come on Jürgen, I'm starving") entering the rather large and decent luxurious interior, the first thing to hit his senses was the smell and the atmosphere It radiated. he spotted a few souls here and there, enjoying what was laid before them.

A waitress came forth with a wide smile. And once more this maiden was stunning stopping just a few feet from Ivory. "Ivory it's so nice to see you again!" She hugged the girl a little too long in his opinion. Pulling away she spotted the shorter man. "Who is this?" She asked politely. With swift movements she reappeared next to Jürgen. "Oh, this is just a friend I've met two weeks ago. We bumped into each other quite literally." She moved herself next to Jürgen, placing her hand onto his shoulder. "You should introduce yourself so you're not a stranger." Jürgen quickly caught on, especially how one of her nails dug into his clothing.

A spike shot through his prideful Germanic heart, looks like she's still mad. "Why of corse Fräulein." His voice was strangely calm as he held out his hand. "My name is Jürgen Weiss. And you are." She looked towards him then to Ivory, a silent conversation as they looked at each other. "So, who is this, that you have found Ivory." She had a smile that looked out of place.

She pushed the waitress. "Come on fleur, it's nothing like that! Get yourself out of that gutter." A hurt mock came over her. "Ivory What slander do you speak off." They both held their stances for a short period, before laughing. "Sorry Ivory. I had, too have some fun there." She looked back towards Jürgen. "The names fleur de lys Jürgen." She shook his hand firmly. "So table for two?." She asked, turning around grabbing the menus. "Three I just texted Röwżoy" Jürgen jerked his head swiftly, a slight frown on his lips as he eyed her. "Really." A surprised Fleur turning slightly. "That girl needs to get out of that shop more often. By the way how did you get her to come out?" A table was before her, placing utensils and three menus.

Jürgen was eyeing her, how she had a victorious grin and that gleam in her eye. Taking a deep breath "because, I'm paying for the meal." He let out, a soft bump connected his shoulder. "That's right! Jürgen her is paying for me and Röwżoy." The way she had spoken Röwżoy's name, made his hand slightly twitch.

Setting themselves for the time, Jürgen couldn't help but stare at the small clear device. His starring hasn't gone unnoticed. "What?." Jolting out of his daze, to look back at her. "I have never seen such a... equipment before." A small rise of her brow was accompanied with a slightly confused look. "So... are you telling me, you've never seen a scroll before?" An questionable look clear as day.

He shook his head slightly, "when you serve within the Reich's elite." A deep tired sigh leaving through his lips. "I, should've said, when you serve in the Schutzstaffel." A smile slowly graced his lips. "You tend too be armed with the state of the art weapons and equipment. I was an Sturmpionier of the Das Reich second SS Division. But I have never seen nor have I heard anything about that." Pointing at the device. Before she could ask, the door opened, allowing a certain rabbit through. "Röwżoy over here." It startled the girl as she spotted her and Jürgen near the back. She smiled at first before dissipating into a mix of a frown with a bit of confusion.

Making the short distance, pulling the chair right next to Ivory before hugging her. "Happy birthday again Ivory." Seating herself, she looked up at Jürgen. "And Faunus hater." The look she got from him was... confusing. He held a smile that didn't sit well, and Ivory looked at her with a very shocked expression. A low chuckle escape him. "Please. I may look down at some Faunus. But The only thing I really hate more, then ever. Are the Bolshevik dogs of Stalin, and the Rats that dares, too threaten the safety of the Fatherland . But the worse ones, are those that cannot provide effort to the war machine or productivity for the people." Grasping the glass of water he took a small sip. He leaned back holding onto his menu browsing what was available.

Both girls looked at him with a mix of expressions. Ivory held an intriguing gleam in her eyes, as for Röwżoy she held a confusing look. "So you hate Faunus." She asked. "I never said anything of the sort." He coolly answered. "There are certain traits or groups that, I will, look down upon." Reaching over, he stopped just mere centimetres from her. She backed away slightly from his reach, watching his hand point towards her. "Too you and other's that share any animalistic traits, are what you call Faunus. Too me it's just deformities." She was about to speak, he swiftly held his hand up. "But. Those deformities tell me what you are." He leaned back into his seat. "The short time I've met you Röwżoy." A soft snort came from him. "Röwżoy, such a lovely name for a Polish girl." He quietly said to himself, her ear slightly twitched hearing that. "The short time we had Röwzoy, you displayed how a rabbit would react. You're shyness, they way your skittish and how easily startled you can be, just like prey for the predators." He looked at Ivory, locking eyes with her. "My view is very different from others." Sitting up straight, he took the menu again as he browsed. "I was raised in a difficult time of fear and strife, so we had too change our Ideology, and our struggle gave way to a new Ideology that brought us under one party and banner." Before any of them could speak Fleur walked up ready too take orders.

They ordered there picks as Fleur wrote down there choice. "Oh. Before I forget, happy birthday Ivory." She pulled her in a half hug. "Now I'll be back with your drinks and what did you want hun?" She looked over to Jürgen. "Beer please." Was the swift reply. She looked at him for a moment. "Uh, do you have Identification on you." He stopped halfway with his glass. Quickly as it came, Ivory saw how he changed in that small gap. "No... I lost it in that Godforsaken City." Was the soft reply, "I guess I'll settle for some wine. And surprise me what you have in stock." With that. They gave her there menus and left them alone.

Ivory turned her head slightly, seeing that Röwzoy was doing the same. It was quiet for the next few seconds before Ivory broke it. "So. What was this... Ideology." He was quite for awhile, looking deeply into his empty glass. It was disturbing how intensely he looked, it was nothing that she could put it under or describe. "What, was it, that you said under your breath?" Ivory and Jürgen where shaken out of there deep thoughts, by the timid rabbits question. He looked towards her. "You said something about my name?." One of her ears lifted ever so lightly. "It was nothing that should concerned you Röwzoy." His voice. They way he spoken was soft as if he partaken a funeral.

This time Röwzoy ears lifted up, with a passing glance to Ivory, she nodded her head towards him. "Jürgen" Ivory spoke, watching him carefully as he held the glass filled with red. "Jürgen" she tried again, still nothing changed in his stance. Boldly she reached over, ever so gently brushing her hand against his. Like a light switch from before he gathered himself before taking a sip from his whine. Then he took in his surroundings looking this way and that. "Sorry, just a bad memory was dug up." Instantly he tipped the glass taking more then just a sip.

Returning back she quickly glanced around seeing a small amount of patrons, thankfully they where seated away in their spot. Before they could ask, Fleur came up setting plates and there selected orders. A large steaming rack of spiced ribs, with the smell of oregano wafting from it's honey glazed sauce. A large plate of pizza was in the middle filled with an assortment of toppings. And finally, a large fat looking steak that Jürgen has ever seen. The creamy mashed potatoes smothered in gravy, steamed vegetables bright and delectable too his eyes. "Here you guys go." She stepped back taking note of the mood, that now surrounded them. "Is there something wrong here?." Jürgen waved his hand dismissively, "no nothing is wrong, just an old wound was dug up." Clapping his hand, startling both girls in front of him. "Now is not the time to dwell on the past. It's Ivory's special day right. We should be celebrating."

Utensils clattered as they ate there fair share, Ivory carefully watched him peel off the honey glazed meat with a fork, the strong alluring sent of oregano wafting from his dish. "You know this reminds me of an Italian or Greek dish." Chewing he reached over towards his glass, sipping the red wine.

Both Röwzoy and her looked at him with confusion. The stringy cheese from her pizza, hanging on the corner of her mouth. Lapping the offending stringy cheese swallowing down as she cleared her throat. "What's An Italian dish?" She asked. Glancing slightly towards Röwzoy, seeing that her interest was piqued.

Waving his hand dismissively at them, savouring the steamed rib meat, with its heavenly aroma the meat sliding off the bone perfectly. Stopping he looked up at them a small wistful smile. "Nothing fräulein, just nonsense rambling to myself." he spoke again, taking a large meaty chunk off the bone.

No. I really want to know." placing her slice back down, then lifting her hand up. "You say these words as in Europe, Germany, Italy, Russia, France and finally Great Britain." she counted off her fingers then pointed at him, listing off the final country. "You say them so easily. As if they where common knowledge!. That's another thing I'm trying to figure out about you Jurgen, you are an enigma. And I'm planing on it, too find that out!." she shot up with her loud declaration. Utensils and plates clattered in their place as Jürgen and Röwzoy swiftly moved forth, stopping the runaway plates and keeping glasses from spilling.

("Easy fräulein, you almost wasted our lunch.") His native language slipping through as Röwzoy took her time setting the utensils back in order. "Ivory calm down a bit. We are, in a restaurant with other's." a sheepish grin spread across her lips, gently rubbing behind her head. "Sorry guys. But Röz. You cannot deny the facts that I talked about." Sputtering and coughing violently came from Jürgen. The rabbit was quick, aiding the soldier from his violent fit. ("Thank you Fräulein. It seems that I now owe one.") She looked down at him then towards Ivory. A slight frown, asking Ivory for clarification. "He'd said, thank you, and he owes you a favour." Translating for her friend.

Regarding his misfortune by taking small calming breaths, steadying his beating heart. "Ivory, it's just nonsense ramblings. That's all." She shook her head viciously "It's not! Just, just. I mean look at your uniform. it's so, much different then any other, militarist branch that I know of." She was gesturing at him before blinking. "What, what happened to the original one, that I first saw you in?. Never mind." Waving her hand, as if swatting a bothersome fly before gesturing around his uniform. "I remembered seeing that Iron eagle and the Iron cross." Quickly she pointed at his breast. "Yes that's it. and that X with four points going clockwise." Then immediately she gestured at his dual thunderbolts. "And I cannot forget about those thunderbolts. How they've been placed like that, it's saying something. And I remembered what you said, that they are just two letters, the SS. Or as you called it. The Schutzstaffel. I saw them on you're uniforms, and on the side of your helmet. It's like, you're out of this world!." she spouted off in excitement. That same curiosity look within her eyes. Was there, it was that same burning desire when he spoke about home. And now, here she is with another girl that's been pulled into this.

His body went stiffly ridged, at every word she marked off. All the while as Röwzoy listened intently as her friend pointed and examined at every little detail on his uniform. Quickly recovering and composing himself, raising his hand to stop Ivory. "Alright Ivory, you made your point..." letting off a tired sigh. "But enough about old me. It's your special day today. We should be focusing more on that." he watched her bitting into her pizza pulling away with a long stringy line before it clung onto her chin. "Ivory!" Exclaimed Röwżoy picking her face with a napkin scooping the offending string and crust. "Can't you eat normally without creating a big mess." swatting her hand away, she turned towards her with an annoyed expression. "Okay, Mother." Jürgen found himself Chuckling at their antics, never he has seen any woman act like this in all his years.

With there hunger satisfied. Jürgen watched the two talk about little things or catching up on lost time. Reaching into his dress shirt, fishing out his wallet but a ring clattered into the table. Frozen still as a statue seeing the golden ring. It's prestigious surface was now chipped with scars cutting deeply along it's once smooth surface. A soft hand gently picked up the ring. Following the hand back towards the owner, seeing Ivory looking intently into it's scuffed surface. Reaching forth, gently grasping the ring from Ivory's hold. With great reluctance, she relinquished the golden ring, allowing it to disappear into his uniform.

"What... what's wrong with that ring?" Ivory asked him when it left her line of sight. He hesitated for a small moment, before looking into Ivory's eyes. "Its... let's just say I'm holding it for my brother." Before she could ask for more, Fleur placed the bill in front of Jürgen. "Well guys, did you have an excellent meal today or the best dam good food you've eaten. But anyway's, how will you be paying sweetheart." Pulling the parchment up they could've sworn how his left eye twitched. "I hope you can pay for it honey, becau-" he held up his hand taking a few lien out of his wallet. "No. Just surprised about the amount." He calmly spoke. Placing the right amount of money or lien as they called it Paying for both and himself.

Stepping outside with Ivory and Röwzoy a few paces ahead of him. His steps settled back into it's origin, from years of service, it settled into a firm, steady, calm pace. They walked along the streets until Röwzoy split off, from the group going back too the store but not without giving her goodbye. With the two alone, Ivory dragged Jurgen alongside her. Browsing into shops, seeing the people going about their daily life. The young man couldn't keep his eyes away from the shortly dressed women, roaming about. Never in his lifetime, he would see the day that women dress like this! Short skirts, pants that hugs to their curves so nicely showing the world what they have. That is usually the time that Ivory swats him in the back of his head, several times over, just too keep him in line.

She was a happy girl though, taking a leisurely stroll through the towns market and enjoying Jurgen's presences. Her glasses enhancing her sky blue eyes, the golden main flowing behind her. They talked and she cracked a few jokes earning a few chuckles from Jurgen. she took him wherever stuck her fancy or indirectly pulling a few pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, from there conversation.

The sky was covered in a calming golden glow as Ivory sat next to Jurgen, enjoying the sun's final decent. Long was the day spent walking, his strides never faltered throughout the evening. They both enjoyed the day, but some parts could've been better. The sight of the country field on top of the hill, was an nostalgic feeling. The sight stilled his Germanic iron heart, with it's rolling hills the familiar thick shrubbery, covering the landscape. Wheat fields stretched far in segments and the few windmills standing tall throughout the land. With the sky turning into a brilliant orange red canvas. A pain settled deep within his heart as it longed for his homeland... for once, he felt a flicker within him, memories of the Fatherland and the thunderous roar of panzers and vehicles rolling throughout the land. The troops proudly singing on those long marches. Ivory let out small a shaky breath, catching Jurgen's attention. ("You remind me of my brother in many ways Juergen.") With his attention shifting towards her, she continued on her thoughts. ("Throughout the day Jürgen. You reminded me how he would just...) A pitiful sigh escaped her. ("I miss him. So much.") She was quiet for a small time before speaking. ("Do you have any siblings that you miss.") was her question.

Starring far off into the far distance. Inhaling a small amount of air. ("That is something I can relate to Fräulein.") he spoke sadly. ("I've been in the army for a long time. I had comrades.") it trailed off, before he viciously shook his head. (No!... they where more then that. Over the course of our travels and many fights, we had became brothers in arms. Brothers that I could rely on. Brothers that, I could count on, through the thick mud and across blood soaked lands. Brothers that, I can truly trust and lean on.") The passion was bleeding throughout his blood as he spoke. Ivory sat there, watching him waving his arms and moving his body. Just like a cartoon but with less exaggerated motions, the more he spoke on. ("I proudly served the NSDAP party for the Führer's armed Protection Squadron.") A shy voice spoke up behind him. ("What's the NSDAP party?") Turning around he was greeted by a confused looking Ivory. Taking a breath, a dry chuckle left him. ("The NSDAP. It proud-fully stands for National Socialists German Workers Party. But others had begun too call it, the Nazi party of Germany.) Her attention was caught by his words, listening to every new detail coming forth. Her eyes held a small glint in them. ("We where small at first. I should know because I joined them in there infancy. Our road was long and brutally hard. Arguably it was a bloody struggle against the Reds. Most of the populace did not welcome us. The old government tried to put us down time and time again. But our message reached out towards the low classes the week the poor and the old. And in time we started to gain momentum. Our hard work and the fuhrer's dream was becoming a reality. And so our banner rose with the populace of Germany. uniting all, under one banner. Bringing hope with it, to our dying nation. Soon others folded into our party uniting Europe piece by piece.")

("Was it all worth it?") she spoke pulling her legs closer towards her chest. ("Was your party successful?.") letting out a tired sigh he shook his head.

("No... our old enemies fought us. The French, Russia and England with his vast minor countries they could pull from.) he chuckled lightly. ("The first nation too fall. Was Poland.") seeing her face scrunching into a confused look.

("Poland?.") she asked rolling the word around her mouth.

His expression was taken towards a distasteful look ("After the Great War. Parts of Germany where taken in the signing of a peace treaty. No one knew who started the war, but most of the blame was targeted on us!.") he yelled, startling her at the sheer amount of emotion put into it. ("we lost half of our country to them. Taking German soil and stealing our profits.") letting out a chuckle ("but it all changed when we claimed back lands from Poland and Slovakia. Reclaiming what was lost to our people.")

("This cause for Germany you are speaking. Sounds a lot like the white fang.") Jurgen looked towards her a questioning look. ("The white fang, was Faunus group that fought for equality rights and too be treated as equals then a permanent second class.") exhaling slowly her body deflated. ("But. They've taken it towards violence. The populace is starting too treat them as terrorists. Which is starting too hurt others that have no affiliation with them. Now. The more peaceful protesters are being casted down because of them.") her expression darkened ("we are treated as trash and they call us subhumans. There was a war... the great Faunus war. I wish that this Nazi party was here. Then maybe it could of worked out for the better.") Jurgen was chewing his lips a look of conflict tormenting in side of him. Reaching over he gently grasped her shoulder.

("Ivory. With how you describe this... White fang. There nothing close to our Fascist Ideology. The white fang is nothing more than wayward revolution.") He fell quiet, his attention shifting at the countryside. ("Mark my words Ivory. There's going too be, a red, bloody revolution. If this continues, and I'm certainly going too stop this.") A smile crept up, his expression radiating with a goal. ("Shall we be going home?. It's been a quite the long day Ivory.") The sight he saw stirred his spirit. Sitting there with a great look of concentration. ("How are you going too stop this?.") her voice and body was hesitate, fearing what his response will be. ("The only way I know how.") a doubtful look was what he got. ("Trust me Ivory. I just need time.") holding his hand outstretched, grasping his and with a pull, she was back on her feet. Proceeding through the fields a gentle wind caressed his skin, the fresh cool air reminded him a certain peace. His stance was calm. The Iron cross was proudly hanging on his breast, glistening in the dying light.

Closing the door in his shop. Sluggishly waddling for his desk, where his open journal lay. His boots re-shined, uniform tightly put away. With his spectacles on, pen in hand jotting down his entry. The weak candlelight flickering next to him.

February 17th 1943

"It still lingers within my head. What Ivory's question about the Reich's Ideology. The white fang is on a dangerous road. It's like the Great Depression all over again. This nation is divided and at war with itself and the Grimm. I started too "search the web" Oh, how I still can't wrap my head around these wonderful machines and technology.

This white fang. It's worse then I could've imagined, they are not terrorists as they called them no. No, it's a revolution in its infancy, a red tide that must be stopped.

What will the nazi party and finally the Waffen SS Do?. I know what the media branch would do. Reach out towards the Faunus, the lower and middle working classes. If we give them promises that are achievable, it will no doubt reinvigorate their hopes. Allowing them to sway away from this faulty system. Just, like how the same system was applied in the allies.

Could the Faunus be apart of our Ranks? Ha I think not. But... we did have some cultural mixed in with the schutzstaffel. The Cossack's, some parts of Europe and the French supposedly said from what I have heard. But does the Faunus have a place amongst the German race?. Or, will they end up amongst the long list of our Fuhrer's Germanic vision. That is something I must ponder more on."

February 18th 1943

"She has asked me many questions, pestering me for information on the Fatherland and our rule. She pulled me along with her friends to a bar. I shouldn't have taken that bait. She now knows my story of our glorious Fatherland. The Great War that tore our nation apart and the lands taken away from us. Oh how I hated as other nations turned there backs on us!. letting our people suffer though a civil war that sprang up, and the Great Depression. It was a very harsh life, growing in that condition, but then hope came to the light. The nazi party Adolf Hitler a veteran from the Great War. I so happen stumble upon one, of his many operations that his party was operating in. I remembered his speeches. How he managed to rouse the withering spirits in that tavern, giving me, and others hope once again, for the future.

I remember seeing how she held on, to what I said. But that frown she held asking me why would we treated the Jewish community to such an extent. Telling me. that it was wrong. Ohh I gave my own retort back. Saying that they! where the ones that tore our nation apart taking lands that once belonged to the German people.

But she was not the only one listening in our conversation. It seems that others started to show hostility and fear, but there where a few that showed interest. I do not care what the majority think. it's those that are looking for change in this trying time and it seems that a few might share this thought. They will know in time and that of an schutzstaffel. I will not one to be taken so lightly


	6. Return too the grave I

February 27th

"It has been an long day, but I could feel the unrest in my heart. I need too return to that Godforsaken graveyard. Since I have a small portion under my name. I can not leave the equipment too rot any longer than it has. I've asked around seeing if I could secure transportation too mount glen. Ivory has been quiet ever since she caught wind of my plan too return back. With this unrest eating at my spirit! It brought back terrible memories, along with unsavoury tastes. Back then we kept the reds at bay, with only a god dam river separating us from those blood thirsty savages. That. Dam. River was just a minor nuisances to Stalin's blood hounds, when they finally pierced our armour... just like the feral pack of dogs they where. they bit down on us, and they bit hard. When the red's bite with the strength of the bear, they thrashed, maiming it's prey. We became broken and battered.

There is another reason that I must return... there's a bank there. During the stalemate my patrol so happen to stumbled upon a ruined bank, hopefully the reds have left it alone. It should, help me claim a solid foundation where I can operate freely from. And. I, I still hold on too a thread of hope, that I might find any survivors."

Getting up from his desk, shifting his sights for the clock reading 8:46 AM. Walking over to his closet too be greeted with his uniforms. Gathering the equipment and a freshly pressed combat fatigues, entering another room. Instinctively he ran through the gathered clothing and equipment. He couldn't help it but smile, unfolded and on full display, was a proper uniform! One that a Schutzstaffel could proudly wear. Oh, how he was glad to be rid of that, filth of an uniform. the familiar feel of the cloth on his skin, the weight and straps around his torso and hip. the survival pack secured on his back hip.

He loved it! This. This is what he was meant to be! To wear this uniform proud fully for the Fatherland and the Fuhrer. The dual thunder bolts on his left collar, a number two on his right signifying his division. The metallic threads gleaming in the light. A rousing cry from his spirit, shouted out in pride, lifting his posture into regulation. His aged, steel helmet adored with markings from his many fights in the fronts. The white shield with his divisions insignia, was worn out paint on the left side, slightly above where it covered his ears. Grabbing the PPSH by the strap slinging it around his left shoulder. Three fully packed round drum mags, where snuggly tucked along his pouches. Finally Looking into the mirror, he smiled again, seeing his old self staring back at him. The helms covering blocking the light from agitate his cold icy blue eyes. He could feel his fore fathers look down at him. With pride. To see him once again to witness there son again in uniform.

Out of all the battles he partook in. Stalingrad was the worst experience he has ever encountered. The long drawn out battle in a citywide skirmish. It's nothing like the open fields of Poland, France and Mother Russia. But a citywide urban environment is another thing, clearing building after building, watching the wood work for potential ambushes.

Stepping out into the early morning air. His mind going into autopilot, taking him where he is needed. A blank firm expression was plastered across, a fast firm pace taking him closer into town. Lifting his right arm, he had too admire the wrist watch and it's convenience. No longer he have too rewind a pocket watch, for it to continue ticking. Reading nine nineteen. On his journey towards his destination through the town and just like clockwork. The morning rush came and went about There daily chores. With his destination in sight the patrons milling about with their food outside in the restaurants patio.

The very same restaurant that he had spent time with Ivory and Rowzoy during her birthday. Stepping through the door, his shiny black boots clacking into the brush, scraping off any unwanted dirt. "Ahhh, why, isn't it my little sisters enigma." The woman greeted Jurgen "what can I get you there sweetheart." She spoke out leaning onto her propped up hand. Jurgen couldn't hold back his slightly forming frown as he made his way up to her.

The woman standing before him was no higher then five eight. Her dirty blonde braided hair rested on her right shoulder a face that could've been craftily sculpted from marble. Softly rounded lips and Emerald orbs that could shine. Her figure wouldn't look out of place in France with such a modest body. "Sweetie my eyes are up here." With a wave of her hand, like dispelling a trance on the young man. "So. Are you here for something. Or are you going to just enjoying the view."

A soft chuckle escaped his throat. "Well, I cannot lie, I do enjoy the sight and feel of a woman's touch Fräulein. I especially enjoy the sight, where you're dressed too show off more flesh." A laugh came from her. "God you sound like an honest pig." After her small fit. She began too regain her poseur. "Come on, I'll seat you down." The quaint little building was bustling with patrons, walking around seating areas and the very few passing waitresses and waiters. "Here we are. I'll get someone too take care of ya hun." Before she left he held up a hand. "No." Turning she saw a look within his eyes. "I. I. need your help." Adjusting herself, she waited for a bit, seeing him struggling within his mind. "I've been. Asking around this town seeing if anyone could assist me." Slowly she sat down, all playfulness ebbing away. "You're the only one that would even dare too fly me back too mount Glen."

Raising her hand stopping him from continuing. "Firstly. I would stay away from that infestation. And secondly I do not feel like going back there since I've had that incident." Jurgen wasn't deterred on how the situation changed. "There is a very large sum of Reich marks in it for you." Shaking her head "listen honey. I only take Lien not. What ever that currency is." Her reply held the strength of an businesswoman. "I know. it's still a word that slips from my mind." Not once his stance wavered during eye contact. Showing her his full attention and respect for the deal that's about too come. "I am willingly, too part five thousand Lien for the first half of payment right now the rest is an additional five when it's done." Her visage crumbled at the price, shaking her head. "No. Make it another ten thousand and we have a deal." A smile graced her lips, preparing for the coming bargaining "Fine. What time will we part for mount Glen." Immediately she was floored at the quick response from the strange man. "Let me take care of that and I'll ask Ivory for you're number." An confused look was plastered on Jurgen's face. "Number?. You want my service number... or my division's number?" Fleur's expression even confused him further. "Are you kidding?... no, you're actually serious. Jurgen, do you know what a scroll is, or do you even have one?" A shake of his head was her response. "Look just meet me at the airfield in about three hours." With there discussion coming to a close. Jurgen left the establishment, with his objective done he returned back too his humble shop.

Soft clanking of brass and a hollow drum clashing with steel echoed in the relatively quiet workshop. The small steel ammo box that held the 7.62X25MM rounds where carefully held in the hands of its loader. With every soft click entering the empty magazine became quieter with it's fill. Jurgen became lost within this silence, a deep sullen look as his body mechanically went through the process. Now fully equipped with his combative gear and field supplies, his straps where taught along the holsters and bags. A small brownish leather field medical bag hung loosely on his back and a steel casing hanged on his back hip that held minimal equipment and tools. His PPSH 41 laid in the table with two round drum magazines at its side filled to the brim.

Within this silent shop, the soft quiet sounds, where amplified with every click or the suddenly soft knocking on wood. Shifting he laid down the drum and bullets, stopping just beside the door. "Jurgen are you in?" Came that ever cheerful voice, yet. It sounded subdued. Lifting the many locks, without any precautions the door opened, allowing an subdued Ivory in.

She looked around the still shop. That is until her gaze locked onto the equipment and weapons in full display on the bench. "So. you're really are going back there." It wasn't a question it was more of an statement, he could tell by her voice. "I'll be coming back within two days once I leave." Picking up an armoured case. Ivory's eyes widened at the bold orange letters that read, danger explosives. Pulling the round spherical explosive out from it's comforting bed. Jurgen couldn't help, but too slowly examine this device, as how different it was from British, French, Italian, and the crudely made Polish and Russian models. Opening the pouch on his left hip slipping the two inside. "Ivory." She snapped her attention to him. "I have a very good reason too go back. There are many sensitive things that I must make sure, are gone." Walking back too his bench lifting another bag underneath it. With carful hands as he methodically placed the round drums in. Strapping the bag, it hung loosely from under his right arm, another pouch was place on his front left hip where several strip clips where comfortably within reach. Finally he lifted his C96 Mauser holstering it under his left arm, next he grabbed the PPSH 41 with an improvised strap. Slinging it on, he turned around to face Ivory.

Her expression put a smile on his face. From her spot on the finely kept bed, her eyes wandering over his ensemble, with his dark grey uniform different from his standard black Then the one she was familiar with. He stood in place with a aura of a professional huntsman, as if he was waiting for her to say something. A sly smile graced her lips as well her eyes giving a sultry look. "Every day Jürgen. Your always surprising me in the most peculiar fashion." Looking to her left she spotted the steel helm. Reaching over she held the rough helm within her hands, fingers gliding across old scars. Smiling she stood up. "You know Jürgen." Her short walk to him was tantalizing as she strutted closer. "For the past two weeks since I've met you. You're a very strange individual. That I had the chance too meet." Gently placing the helm on his head. "I like how you see Faunus culture in a different light, then what others see us as." A small chuckle left his lips. Tilting his head too look into those deep blue orbs staring back at him. A bold move that had Ivory squeaked out in surprise.

he held her hand within his, as the other was wrapped around her waist. "Then it's a good thing that I am Ivory." Pulling herself away, Jurgen allowed her too slip from his grasp. Looking to to her eyes, she held a playful grin. "My, my, such a bold move Jürgen. If I knew more about you, I might've let it slide." Playfully she poked the brim of his steel helm, covering his sight. "Well then. I may have to go at it in a different way." Adjusting his helm, Ivory still held that mirthful smile, like an infection his lips shifted with her beautiful aura.

But it all died as she pulled him into a hug. "Why are you going back there for?." Was her quiet question. A silence fell between them for a small amount, gently he rested his arms around her waist. "Too be honest Ivory... I'm scared too follow this through. But there are sensitive issues that must be taken care of." Feeling her shift had him tightening his grip, stopping her from seeing the unease that took his heart. Subtly she moved a few items digging into her. "Can you promise me that you'll return." She gently asked, pulling him a bit closer. "No." Was his deathly hallow reply.

Pulling away her grip quickly held him still. "You better be lying Jürgen. Because I'm not willing to part without you satisfying my curiosity and my unanswered questions." A small chuckle escaped him. Her fiercely committed mind towards his party was flattering in a small way. "All this time, I thought you cared for me?. And yet here, with my own ears you just want-" with a harsh shove cutting him off. Yet there was no playfulness in it, Looking up into Ivory's watering eyes stabbed into his Iron heart. "You're such a Idiot. No a fucking asshole when you want too be." Another push came as he found himself up against the wall with an distraught woman in front of him with a clenched fists. "Ivory." Stopping at the sound of his soothing calm voice she waited for him. "I'm sorry Fräulein. It was meant as a jest." With a shake of her head. "No!..." the surprising amount of emotion startled him. "Jürgen just promise me that you'll be alright." Again the deep pit within his soul was there. "Okay Fräulein. But I cannot keep that promise. Though I can promise you anything if I return." Wrapping her arms under her bosom she held his gaze.

Stepping out of his corner, gently brushing past Ivory. At his desk shuffling aside several toolsets too pull out a small crafted wooden box. With a flick of the wrist opening the cover. With great care, like handling a swaddled bade. It's shine of polished steel and it's black coating of Iron, a golden oak leaf with two crossing swords stood on top with threading of black white and red.

Turning he placed his greatest prize and most mournful prize, he had from the Fatherland into her hand. "Take this with you for now." She looked at the strange cross in her hands, the feel and the moderate weight was off putting for her from such a small cross. Looking between him and the cross. Reading her body language he spoke up. "That will be my promise token when I get back. And with it you can ask me anything without strings attached." She still held where she stood on the topic, then with a tired sigh. "I'm holding your word on this Jürgen." Stopping just before heading out he shifted slightly too acknowledge her words.

The walk weighed heavily on his spirit with clouds of doubt and anxiety filled within him. But, with the force of an Ironclad will was swiftly brushed aside. There can be no doubts lingering on the forefront of this crucible movement for him too advance more.

"So. You finally made it." Fleur was standing beside one of those aircrafts, that Jürgen heard of. "Yes. I'm finally here." Looking up at the small Hammerhead, he frowned upon seeing how truly small it really is.

Seeing his mood she knocked the harden shell gaining his attention. "Hey!. She may be old but she'll hold together." With a slow deliberate rotation, taking in what was in the hanger. Stopping upon the massive craft near the back. Fleur followed where he stopped his gaze. "Ohhh no. We are not! Taking that, beast of engineering, I'm not allowed too even touch her." Ignoring what she said. He walked up towards this marvellous of engineering creation. He spotted nothing, no markings that indicated a manufacturer or any type of logo. But his heart skipped a beat when he walked towards her side. There in it's glory was an eagle painted in a dull silver poised into a strike. The same way how a Junkers eighty seven dived in most coat of arms.

Reaching out his hand, it stopped just out of his reach. Fleur watched him very closely. The way he held out his hand was a forlorn gesture. As if he could reach out to grasp, that only he could see. Before she could tell him too step away. He walked back seeing more of the heavy transport. "Who owns this skytrain.?" Confused at his wording he spoke once again. "Your hammerhead. How much weight could it carry?." Walking past her he stopped in front of her small carrier. Until he realized how small it truly was. He immediately cut her off before she had the chance. "Never mind. You're hammerhead has a small cargo hold by the looks of it." Turning to face Fleur, he was met with a furious glare. "This cargo hold is too small. I don't think-" the sound that escaped from her stopped him mid sentence.

Turning slightly in her direction, he watched as she stomped her feet, closing the gap between them. Jürgen held an amused expression, until she began poking his chest. "No! We are not. Going too be using, anything! But my hammerhead. You're paying me, too fly you in so you could grab a few "sensitive materials" are you're exact words." It was emphasized with a sharp jab.

Jürgen wasn't fazed in the slightest. With a huff, he took in a deep breath. Gone was the mask too show that this was now strictly business. "You're right on two things Fräulein. But I have yet too tell you what we are retrieving. I kept it vague out there because it was in public. Now that we are alone in a hanger, away from prying ears and nosy rats. I'll say more right now, but I'll fill you in more once we leave... towards Stalingrad." He grew distant as he awaited for her next too the entrance. "Come now. We must leave immediately while the sun is still young." Fleur's demeanour changed drastically for the worse. It was a change that didn't sit well within Jürgen.

He watched her very carefully. Waiting on what she would pull. "Who, are you Jürgen? That is if. It's your real name." She was standing next to a table. But he could see where her hand was but it was out of sight. "You're going to tell me what, your after. I'm not going too move any farther, until you tell me the fuck it is." A spike of anger flared inside his being. His finger twitched inches from his holster. She has no rights too demand anything from him.

Like lightning it happened so quickly. A loud slap echoed through the hanger, Fleur stood stock still her head slightly towards the left. All hostility was gone but a cold fear grip her. He took in a strained breath, before letting it out as a frustrating sigh. "How dare. You talk too me in such a manner maybe I should find someone elsewhere." With a huff, he took in a few steps away. "Hold it asshole." Stopping, he took in a few calming breaths, before turning too face her.

He was impressed on how she looked. A wave of killing intent was radiating off of her, her eyes held such anger, a vastly different woman from the ones he had saw or interacted with. "I, am not. Letting you go that easily. And I want fucking answers." Walking forward a few paces he stopped just out of her reach. He still despised how tall he is, having too look up at her in order too maintain eye contact. "You want answers. Get me too my destination. I do not care how long it will take us. As long as we get there." Was his low harsh reply. Brushing past her he spoke up again. "Then. and only then, I'll give you some answers."

With a frustrating sigh Fleur opened up the side entrance. Stepping through she made her way into the cockpit. Stopping just before she entered, she took note that no one was behind her. Looking back she found him sitting in one of the many seats lining along the hull. "Ohhhh no you're not. Get up." She loudly 'walked' up too him. "I said I wanted answers. So you aren't allowed in the cargo bay. You're going too be sitting right next too me, for this long ride." Towering above him like a predator. with a defeated sigh, hauling the equipment over his shoulder, following Fleur into the cockpit.

It was quite spacious for such a small vessel. He stood to the side, observing how she seated herself and fiddling with unfamiliar dials and switches. A pair of headsets where retrieved above her, gently turning around she silently motioned to the seat next too her.

A thunderous bellow escaped upon it's awakening. The slow hum of blades running up to speed, strapped down and his equipment aside. Placing his helm under the seat and the aged Russian sub machine gun, held securely on the left wall. "Tower this is Bravo Alpha Romeo 558 I wish for taxi clearance so that I can take off." When she spoke it surprised Jürgen on how fast she turned for professional sake. "Tower copies B-A-R 558 you are clear. Too head down left on Kilo, taxi down right November to H-4." Gently she pushed the craft over the designated lanes. "Why don't we just lift off now?." Jürgen asked sarcastically. "Wish I could but there's an cargo jet coming in around this time. On the hour." Taxing on the designated pad she waited for a bit. "Tower this is B-A-R 558 in position and awaiting further orders." Jürgen couldn't help himself but smile in this current situation. "Tower copies. There is currently another Hammer head landing in H-8 hold till F-X 25 lands." A harsh snort escaped Fleur as she turned towards Jürgen. "What the hell are you smiling about." A short mirthful laughter escaped him. "It's just amusing, on how fast you turned professional." Chuckling for a short time, an melancholic look came over him. "Reminds me of early soldiering day's from the SS Verfügungstruppe. I remembered at that time I never really got alongside with most of the recruits... well, it was more of both the army and some of the men in my division that I was apart of. It was always, the small things that got on our nerves." Fleur didn't say anything slowly she reached towards her right pressing a red switch. Pretending that she was looking over the controls she made a brief look too see that the recorder was working. "Sooo how long where you... part of this division?." She paused for a second before adding. "Where you the trouble maker in the group... or-" He cut her off by waving his hand. "Of corse not. I was never the type too fool around."

The crackle of static interrupted Jürgen before he could continue. "B-A-R 558 you are clear too go. Take off when ready." Flipping a few switches and dials. "Copy tower." With the thrumming of the engine he could feel it lift upwards. It was a surreal feeling that he couldn't explain. "Good luck Fleur. Happy flights." A small giggle as she pulled onto the controls. The vessel swiftly speed forwards into the long distance. "How long do we have before we hit our mark?" She glanced sideways before focusing to the horizon. "Just about two hours from here." She heard him rummaging around with something until the sound of unfolding papers rang out. Once again she checked to her passenger too see a large beaten map. She raised an eyebrow of what she could make out. "Is there a certain location that I must know?" Nodding his head. He quickly took a glance at the compass. "Yes. But I won't know for sure, until we make visual contact." Glancing down at his watch, only too scowl at the time. 18:45.

"Sooo" turning too the woman beside him, he let out a sigh. "Are we back on speaking terms now?" A brief annoyance came over her. "Yes asshole. We are." He let out a short snort. "I'm surprised that you haven't cut our deal when I slapped you in the hanger." Watching her slowly, reaching for her red cheek she let off a huff of air. "Oh, I had every rights too cut you off. But like I said. I have questions, and you have the god dam answers." She punctuated her reasons with a glare. "I've known Ivory for a long time. And not once she have grown such... such an obsession too know someone." Seeing how he shifted around and feeling the unease radiating off of him. "He is an enigma Fleur. There's something about him, different from others that I've known. And I'm going too find that out. Such a mysterious man that isn't the norm." He didn't move nor spoke yet she went on. "That's what she told me, word, for, word. And now I want too know who you really are." The silence hung in the air for a long, uncomfortable time for her. "She's still persistent as a fly over a corpse." A dry chuckle and a long sigh, he sat himself upright. "Now I've gotten myself more questioning my mysterious lifestyle and past." When they both locked eyes, Fleur felt a foreboding dread. "Now, since you went through the trouble for her or you're own curiosity's sake I shall indulge you." Facing back towards the frontier he spoke again. "Now. Which one do you want to know or start?."

A cold shiver ran up her spine. He was different now. Different from others that she couldn't explain. Wondering how and why, she was doing this? Until she remembered what Ivory have told her about this... individual an enigma that stumped and intrigued her so much that she wanted too know. She took in a deep breath then switched on the recorder. "I want too start from the beginning. I want too know about the Reich and you."

Review responses

Ahhh. forgive me comrades for such a long gap, I have been busy with work but I have prevailed through and too say I'm. not. dead. This was supposed too be longer but I'm still editing it and needs too be expanded more and refined... some chapters have been rewritten but all in all I thank you for the reviews and the recommendations. I have the story all planed out like a play I've made a story board before making this story and there's so much I could do on a fifteen minute break and a thirty minute lunch. I could never get my self too write after work fighting hard not too Fall asleep during the trip home ahhh well the price of living alone. But enough of my life we came for the story.

I will say I had such a hard time working out this in certain segments. I have too plan this out carefully and look back several times too stay on track and the time of day we are on. Ohhhhh yes I know I've made Jürgen talkative when he's around Ivory. Reason why is that he's letting his guard down for her. He was content with the populace ignoring him but her. she's persistent she latched onto him, taking out his armour as days turned into weeks. Like all great things they will fail. I will explain this in a more in-depth time later on.

The shadow of Zama

Yes. all you have said I have taken into account I do not make half ass bridges (do not take it as an insult please!.) No I've made the foundation sound and secure. I have a beginning middle and end already set out like a script. All I have too do is lay it out and refine them along the way as I go back and forth.

Ohhhh the Ideology of Nazisim that Jürgen follows will play such a political role down this road but I will explain that eventually along the story Everyone will know this down the road I have looked into the political vice that is remnant. Oh and yes he's getting a base of operations somewhere after his plight in Stalingrad.

Oh and one more thing for all of you Jürgen doesn't hate the Faunus culture just "certain attributes" that are apart of animal stereotypes. So mainly he will look like an racist and generally a asshole. And the white fang will come into play but I will leave it at that. And the date is a few months before the start of the canon well... close too a year maybe? He dose have to build up a foundation right.

Another thing he is very short five feet four inches I will change that in the future with previous chapters. Sooo he's basically an entire inch shorter than ruby. Now let that sink into you imagination. And think.

Last thing next chapter I'm going too put in the sources that I've been reading up on such as books and websites or museums that I've visited.


	7. Returning to the grave II

Returning too the grave II

The flight that Fluer was in could sum up towards past experience. Fly there, drop off or wait until the job was done. But this little job was vastly different from her past work. Jürgen, the man that is an enigma. A puzzle... no a complicated jigsaw puzzle her sister was so tightly winded up on. Oh how she loathed herself for being in this position. She told Ivory too stay away from him for her own safety and giving her a cense of ease. But no. Like the curious cat she is, she visited him time and time again, with him only brushing her off. She took the chance to glance towards her co-pilot. "How far are we, from our objective?." She took a quick look before watching the coming horizon. "Just another hour."

A frustrating sigh was his answer. ("Hell hounds that roam the earth freely. Now the carriers of death are claiming fucking skies.") a horse laugh escaped his lips. ("This is truly Hell on earth. And the so-called people hide behind a thin veil blanket that is a wall. And there protectors are Huntsman and women.") with a disheartening smile he shook his head. "Is this what humanity has truly come too?. Fearing the outside world just because of some hellish creatures." Speaking in English. He shook his head in disappointment.

Fluer shook her head in exasperation. For the last hour she had him talking about the treaty of Versailles. And then she indulged him to a simplified history about the Grimm. "Well mister protection squad. What would you're 'glorious' Fuhrer. Will do in our situation." A spike of anger flared when she sarcastically asked and mocked glorious.

She was smiling at him as he was scowling in her direction. "You should be wise, not too mock my Fuhrer so. Blatantly in front of me." She looked ahead hiding the fear that is clawing at her. "I've made my vows too him, as all Schutzstaffel personal should. Our vows are sacred to the Fatherland and it's people." When he looked at the passing forests his hand audibly cracked as he made a fist. "This... No. these, beasts are nothing more, then a threat too the Fatherland. A threat that should be exterminated. Nooo. If this was the Fatherland. It's people would be called upon for his armour. And the Wehrmacht acting as it's blade. But the Schutzstaffel will be the Fatherland's spear and it's shield." A prideful voice entered his being as he worked himself up. "We, are the pride of the Fatherland. Prideful sons that can continue the fight that our Fathers and fore fathers can not continue the fight." Sitting straight and true with a content smile, he held onto his left breast, where the Iron cross should've been. "Any that dares too threaten our homeland, will be swiftly met head on. Being apart of the Schutzstaffel, we do not eliminate. We Annihilate those. That dares! Too threaten the fatherlands, good fortune." Fluer de lis couldn't comprehend what she was hearing. They way he spoke, how he showed his true feelings like a pompous aristocrat. And the amount of Zeal and fanaticism that could've put the white fang and most companies too shame. Not even the four kingdoms have such a driving force of patriotism.

Fleur turned away from the recorder with the time at 1:45.30 of there recorded session. Far into the distance she spotted the looming shadows of a city that proved the Grimm are powerful. She looked over towards Jürgen thinking that his thoughts are different. "Mount Glen. Dead ahead." Glancing over, She could see him rummaging throughout his kit. Marking off what he held. "Where am I touching down?." Watching the ruined city's sky scrapers passing by she maneuvered her craft over the dilapidating city. "Oh. You'll know where too go." Confused at his choice of words. He spoke up again before she had the chance. "Look where the ruins end and where the graveyard begins." He pointed towards there North by North west.

She spotted where he was pointing. She couldn't hold back her surprise at what she saw. There in it's haunting stance, where mount Glen ended. A scared landscape began, homes reduced to rubble and streets littered with debris and holes. "Where the fuck did this come from?" She was too focused on her new surroundings. Enraptured by the surreal sight, row after decimated row stood homes, apartment's and in the far North distance was several factories. "Watch what's in front of us, god dam it!" Startled she saw the approach smoke stack, quickly she veered to the right, avoiding the obstacle. "Focus Fleur!" He snarled out. Looking down at his watch it now read 21:38 a resign sigh left him. "We need too find a place too hunker down soon." As soon as Jürgen looked up he spotted a familiar building. And yet after all this time, it still stood, barring a few holes and a some burnt floors, it still stood tall. "There. That legislation building." He pointed out the very large construct with the torn and burnt flags of the Das Reich.

"You're kidding. Right? Look at the state it's in! And the god dam lot is full of shit." She pointed around the nearby streets and at the chaotic displacement of cover and barricades. "Nein, Nein, Nein I mean the rooftop of that Forward operating post. You can't miss it." She held the craft in position as she surveyed her landing options. "Don't even think of landing anywhere else. This is the only place I can think of, off the top of my head. That you're hammerhead would be safe from those hellish hounds." She shifted her sights at him then at the lone building. "Trust me Fluer. I know these streets and the city better than anyone that is alive today." Jürgen watched the imposing grave with a small amount of fear. But it was outweighed by the bitterness of hatred and anger. "Alright then. I'll trust you, just one time, I'll trust you." Slowly the craft delicately shifted in air, aliening above the rooftop. Gently touching down, a groaning erupted beneath them.

"Easy girl, easy, you're not fat enough too crumple this roof yet." Jürgen spoke in a soothing manner. Fluer was staring at him with a very unamused spirit. "Shut up! You're making things worse for me." She hissed back. Carefully and a lot of time passing she finally powered down her craft. Standing up Jürgen gathered his equipment and gear as he awaited for her to open the bay doors. "So. What, should I expect that you're here for?" With a sidelong glance her way, he focused what was about to lay before them. "Death and decay with a loss of hope." He bitterly spoke out. The soft clack of the bolt locking, she shifted nervously as the bay opened towards a decaying city.

With carful steps, Jürgen shifted his sights around him. The Papasha resting firmly against his shoulder. The streets are deathly silent, the absence of birdsong or anything else was gone. It pulled at his sixth sense, not allowing the hairs on the back of his head, any comfort. Rubble clattered beneath his boots, A sharp metallic clang of metal was on his right. Immediately turning with his sights aligned, with the center mass of Fuler de lis. She was holding onto what appeared too be a poll. Then she slowly unentangled the torn red banner. There, in it's pathetic state, was the white roundel on a red background with the black swastika. She couldn't see the full banner it was torn asunder. But too him he could see it clearly as day.

"Fluer." She jumped at his call, turning He gestured towards there left. "This way." The door was nothing too scoff at, just a broken and rotting piece of wood. With a hardy kick it fell before them making way for there next destination. He pushed Fluer behind him just as she was taking point. "Hey. You don't need too be pushy there." A light snort escaped his nose. "There's a good reason that I'm being protective of you." With a soft scoff she poked his shoulder. "What. You think a few Grimm, are going too be a problem?." The aged old wooden stairs, creaked under their weight. Stopping near the end, he turned towards her. "It's not them that I should be worried about. This, hellish graveyard hides, many dangers in plain sight." With the long hallway, of this once pristine building before them. Was now, nothing more than a ruined life. Bestowed upon by the wrath of the Axis and the CCCP. Relaxing his stance he methodically moved throughout the Command post taking rooms around sections that where no longer there.

Opening the last door, lead them into the main hub of the CP's commanding structure. "Fluer. Stay here." She scoffed at him, pushing past she made her way across the room until she was violently pulled back. "Ow What the fuck is wrong with you?" She bit down on him, but he wasn't looking at her but at the floor. Very slowly he handed her his sub machine gun. Pulling out a pair of tools he began to trace his finger towards the left then right. "Two steps forward, you would've killed us both." He calmly spoke. "Make sure that nothing will bother us. Okay Fräulein." Lifting the Russian machine pistol clumsily she began too watch the doors and windows along with the floor. "What is that." Still working the line as he traced it back towards an German explosive mine. "A Scheiße!" He shook his head as he found a Teller mine, equipped with a Z.Z. Fuse. "I cannot touch this." Standing back up, he pushed Fluer away and around the dangerous obstacle. "Why? Can't you just, cut the wire and be done with it?" She asked confused. He violently shook his head. "No! That's a good way too kill us. That's a god dam teller mine!" He exclaimed. "That mine has enough TNT too level this floor." She looked between him and the small rubble where the booby trap laid. "What type of mine is it?" A dry chuckle escaped him as he looked fondly back at it. "Its designed for an anti-tank role. Has about 5.5 kilograms of TNT and there's an anti-handling fuse. So... in short, I cannot touch it or safely disarm it."

Stopping near the table with all the maps and battle plans. He motioned for her too stay as he began too sweep the room for more traps, placed by German hands. Fluer watched him as he methodically marked out the hidden boobytraps with the room. Curiously she surveyed their room. Tables in poor condition, shattered glass laying around windows that where blown out in one direction, with piles of sandbags and spent cartridges. In another area was maps and loose papers, scattered beyond the hope of retrieval. Shifting Jürgen's weapon with in her grasp, she pulled the strap above herself and placed it neatly onto the very large map with a layout of the city. She gave up, on trying too understand the Solitas language and writing, along with the other symbols and nonsense markings. With a tired sigh, she looked up and spotted a painting. A painting that wasn't aligned and crooked. It was a painting of a beautiful field with lush trees and bushes with a small town in the background. The sky was partly clouded with even brush strokes. The colour palette was perfectly eye catching, but it was martyred how it was slanted and unaligned. Taking the initiative, she strode over. Like a looming snake, just before her hand could touch it. It was firmly grasped and she was harshly pulled away from the painting. "Leave it be." Was what Jürgen quickly said. "Why?" An unnervingly smile came across his lips. "Funny thing you should say or know. That painting is boobytrapped." A cold chill ran up her spine as she looked at the now revealed trap. "It's quite an ingenious placement right." As he pulled Fleur away. "Now, I've found four traps and two of them are safe... for now. And we know where the other two is right." She wasn't smiling nor did she had a amused expression in the current situation. "How can you be so calm in this situation?." A hearty laugh wasn't what she wanted to hear. "For a civilian like you. This is just another day at work. But for me, it's more than just a job." He answered back like an old colleague talking about the weekend.

With a light clatter, he picked up his PPSH slinging it back, to it's rightful spot. With a hand gesture, he motioned for Fluer too follow him. With a huff, she moved towards where he stood, shuffling through a wooden crate. Before she could get any closer, he tossed her a Rifle.

It was a heavy and robust rifle that she fumbled with, before resting against her chest and arms. She stared dumbfounded, at the Rifle in her hands. The cherrywood body was battered and scratched along its frame. The bolt was well seasoned and rounded with a smooth steel surface and a box gently rested beneath along with a folded knife that was hooked around the barrel. Then, she felt something, heavy and metallic covering her head and over her eyes. "Schützen Flure." boomed Jürgen. As he walked away, grabbing several more materials, before shoving them on top of the rifle. "Consider you're self, forcefully...conscripted. By the order of our Fuhrer and the Fatherland." They where silent for a few seconds. As Fluer was looking into Jürgen's plain expression. Until it cracked into a wide grin and a hearty chuckle escaped. She fumbled for words, exasperated from the weapon and gear in her hands until she just dropped them. Getting right up towards him. But before she could say anything. It was interrupted when they both heard, the rapid succession of cracks and pops in the city.

Moving into action. Jürgen dove into the piles of sandbags that faced the east where mount Glenn was. Noticing that Fluer was still in the open, he harshly pulled her down beside him as he reached out again pulling the Soviet SVT-40 closer and the strap that contained pouches. Locking the bolt back. A stripper of five, seven point, sixty two rounds where fed into the clip. Then it Was tossed aside with another, feeding into the box clip. With a sharp flick and a light clack of the bolt closing. He rolled around, onto his stomach, resting the rifle gently on top, for support. The streets where always the same, quiet on one end, but noisy and alive with hate in another. Oh how it was still, unnerving too be out in the open or anywhere near a window. The perfect grounds for a hunter of men. The Iron sights moved with his inquisitive movements, scrutinizing every little hole and rubble. A broken fountain laid in ruins where the heart of the square started. Just a few meters towards the east, was the remains of a burnt out husk of a T-34. Still with it's warped gun facing him. Still with his sights, it moved over the makeshift grounds where brave German souls, stood against Stalins rabid dogs. It was still littered with broken remains. The evidence was of a Panzerkampfwagen mark three Ausf L buried beneath bricks and mortar.

Still, he could see the line in the sand, that bloody bear had crossed. No... decimated the feeble line, that they have tired too hold back. His hands gripped the wooden stock, much harder. ("Do you know how to handle a firearm?") unconsciously slipping back into his mother's tongue. ("If you're going too speak differently. Then speak something we both know.") She sharply spoke in French. A rye smile graced his lips, along with a dry chuckle before speaking in French. ("If that's what you wish. Then so be it.")

There was nothing that Jürgen could note, within the courtyard. But it left out too many cases out, pulling away slowly and staying low. With a light motion of his head, Fluer followed suite. ("Do you know how to handle a firearm?") he asked, as he placed down the SVT-40 detaching the clip and the loaded round. (No. I do not, I never thought, in my life I would use one.") She flinched under his hardening gaze. A muffled retort escaped his lips and a hand over his mouth. Recomposing himself he let out a tired resignation in German. ("Out of all the times in my life, why am I blessed with such a wretched curse.") grabbing the rifle by its boar, he handed it Fluer. Which in turn she hesitantly reached out before it was shoved into her arms.

For ten minutes. Ten. Long. Gruelling minutes, Jürgen ran her through the motions of handling and loading the strip clips. If only he could've found more of those god forsaken detachable box mags he wouldn't have to help her load and unload that Rifle. She was abysmal at handling the Rifle. She held no common sense when it was loaded. The women he had met knew how too shoot and defend themselves and their homestead. ("Fluer I'll take first watch. I'm going too see if there's anything else, that I've missed.") Her head snapped up with a look of surprise. "Now hold on there Jürgen. I'm about too liftoff pretty soon. And I'm. Not, waiting any longer." She stood up, roughly placing the Rifle into of the map. ("Like we have agreed. I drop you off and I come back in two days afterwards.") A frown martyred his face. Walking back he gently took the rifle and observed the war map. ("Do you know where I'm going too be?.") She shook her head in the negative as she tried too burn a hole in the map. ("Two days from now. I'll need you too be here. With a much larger, cargo capacity.")

Again, that seething anger martyred her beautiful features again. Before he could've defuse the situation, she struck out like a fine dualists rapier. "Fuck that!." Her snarl surprised Jürgen. It sparked into his core, a reminiscent form. But the now peeved woman in front, began too push him with just a finger. ("I told you once. And again, i'll remind you of that "small" detail you seemingly forgot.") He felt his pride whither in growing anger. She was now pushing it!. ("You hired me. And that means MY Hammerhead, I can't just ask my uncle for his bird and not gain anything in response. Just for lending his Prized possession.") Her voice carried such a venomous tone, and oh, how she could just push him around. Still pressing her assault, she didn't see his open palm coming. ("I don't want anything to do with my-") The force of the slap was strong enough too push her back. The sound resonating throughout the empty building, a mere echo disturbing the silent twilight.

With a sharp exhale through his nose, Jürgen ruffly pushed her backwards. ("You are treading, on very dangerous thin ice Fräulein.") He stopped himself as he realized that his mother's tongue had slipped. Taking in a breath he spoke again in French. ("You're pushing in the wrong direction Fluer. You better start treading more carefully now before something happens.") his words carried out, through the ruined post. They both held a great amount of distance from each other. Jürgen standing tall despite his stature. A cold unyielding stare from those cold eyes. Fluer standing across from him, with her shaken hand, caressing her reddening cheek. Within her blue eyes shimmered with fear and pain.

They stayed in there spots. Waiting for the other too make a move, nothing happened in their stand off. Jürgen felt his being striking out like whip, towards his raging Germanic pride. Through the clouded haze, it struck him again, upon seeing Fluer there. A women he had struck in his anger. She was in front of him well out of his range and ready too flee in any direction within the moment. The fearless and that fiery tempered spirit was gone. And here stood a girl, that had been struck by his own hand, in a fit of anger.

Before he could mend his mistake. That dreadful howl pierced the air, shattering the silence from its coming. They both froze just from the sound alone. Grabbing the rifle, Jürgen ran towards the hole facing the East. Those hellish red eyes he feared where coming. Five bearers of death ran through the battered field, easily moving over rubble, mortar and broken machines of war. Without turning towards her, he spoke out with a sense of fear. ("Run Fluer.") It was so soft that it snapped her back. ("Wh-wh-What?") Twisting around to face her with such fear. ("Get out of here!") The yell was so sudden as he pushed her towards, where the stairs are. ("Fly Fluer. get out of here.") She stopped before she ran up. ("What about you?") With a loud clack of a bolt. ("Find me at the designated time and spot. Where I have showed you.") Shouldering the Russian rifle, it barked loud and clear. Three shots left from his position, striking long dried dirt and claymore, undeterred beasts from hell still moved. Rounds biting into their blackened fur or simply skittering across the bone white masks of steel. With the last casing ejected and the hungry maw wide open taking the Mosin strip and feeding the rifle. Taking a quick glance around, he saw Fluer still standing there. ("Run Dummkopf. Los los?.") pushing her again, he wasn't so gentle anymore as he shoved her through the door and up the flight.

Running back at the breach, he was stopped immediately by the massive claw digging into the sand bags and wood. Dropping the SVT and drawing his Papashaw. As soon as the hound showed it's hateful red eyes behind that infernal mask, he let loose. Seven point sixty two Tokarev bullets, showered across its face, stinging like angry hornets. With a pained howl and lifting one paw forward with a sharp swipe. Shifting around the strike, he shifted his attack on it's only leverage it held. Flesh tore apart from the unrelenting assault, the hellhound's mutilated paw slipped out from severed nerves and muscle. Falling from the five story German post, Jürgen quickly discarded the drum magazine, seeing as he had no time for the minimal time at hand.

Breaching the floor below him. The hellish fiend knocked him across the small room slamming through the rotting wall. Dry dust and wood splintered throughout his being a sharp intake of pain exploded across his back air escaping his lungs. Rolling on his side coughing out dust and blood. His heart stopped, upon seeing his beloved machine pistol, crushed beneath it's paw. Three of them stood there, growling. Fear was gripping at his Iron heart his spirit wavering before them. But, before it could over take him. Something inside of him snapped. A burning hateful spirit for accepting such a fate. Clenching his hands, he could feel the dirt, wood, and debris collecting inside his palm. "Nein." Was the quiet answer. "Nein." Straining his body too move. "You... will not, take me. Too Hell!" His defiant yell was laced with fury and resolve.

The beasts took the sight as a challenge, their low growls turning into a snarl. The front Beowolf leapt forth, teeth bearing down on the Schutzstaffel before it. Burning hot pain exploded across its neck, a firm hand holding around the jugular. With great desperation it clawed at the man holding onto it. Shallow markings tearing into cloth and flesh, small grunts of pain escaping past his gritted teeth. "You think, you're the only ones that can give out death?" He questioned the hellhounds, slowly he pushed the one he held back. "Well then. That means that I must become better then you hellish spawns of Cerberus. So that I can proudly proclaim our motto back!" Cocking his arm backwards, he struck out with all the hate and anger flowing throughout his spirit. The strike connected into the jugular, a choked yelp escaped the wolf, a ragged wheeze was the only sound it made. Drawing his Mauser from the ruined straps and unsheathing the steel of his youth knife. A burning sense of power and anger bubbled within him, fire dancing along his hands and arms. A firm and commanding voice broke through the haze. "We must be better and preform better than the enemy, and only then can we say." He lept forth charging into the two at the door. A battle cry leaving his lips with absolute pride. "Give death and take death!"

Slamming into the Beowolf on the right, he pushed with this new found in power. Steel biting into blacked fur, again he drew back to thrust forth sliding underneath the rib cage. Drawing the C96 underneath it's jaw, the cold smooth bore lodging deeper as he pressed forth. With a bright and sharp crack the pistol discharged the empty cartridge. Black inky smoke fled from its wounds, the body beginning too dissipate as he charged again towards his next target. With a horizontal swipe, Jürgen felt the force connecting within his spirit, tossing the man across the room. Slamming into the table, maps and tools where thrown from his wake, rolling onto his side teeth gritted in anger as he pulled himself up from broken wood and torn paper. Levelling his Mauser pistol at the wolf before him, rapid thumps on his left took his attention away. That single mistake was quickly capitalized by the hound, charging forth, too quickly for Jürgen too react in time as the massive paw swatted him.

The force sent a painful shock throughout his chest and left arm. Seeing the room spinning and quick flashes of the hound, it suddenly stopped by hitting against one of the many weaken pillars. The raging beast inside of him flared out with more fuel, pain seeped across his battered body. Gritting his teeth for a short period, it began to subside into a dull throb. "I. Will not... be taken, too hell!" Standing back up with renewed vigour, the fire in his heart burning brighter than ever. "I'll make you work for it." Reversing his grip on the knife, he pushed past the dull throbbing and aching wounds away. "I will not, allow myself, too wallow in my own grave. I will continue to fight for the Fatherland and his people." Holding onto that burning sensation within his heart. A low threatening growl came from the right. Clawing itself a wider opening through brick and plaster, was a very large wolf, bone white mask and coverings that acted like steel armour.

Jürgen took a few steps away, from such a large hellish fiend. His foot slipped underneath him, with a quick glance, he had backed into the opening, facing towards the eastern front and noting three of those hounds, were on his left and right. Deliberately blocking all chances of escape. Seeing his chances now, a slow and quiet chuckle bubbled out of him before it became a laugh. A short laughing fit, long enough for the alpha of the pack to crawled itself inside the short room. "You think you have me cornered?" He spoke, after taking in a short breath, his smile dissolving into a harsh scowl. "I think not." Aligning his sights, the Iron cross hairs levelling at the skewered painting behind the alpha wolf. "Tell death that you're hunt, was unsuccessful." Sensing the immediate danger from him. The pack leader pounced forth, but it was too late. From the muzzle a single bullet left. Leaving behind a fiery burst only for it too die swiftly into black ash, the escaping gas pushing the slide back for an empty brass casing to be ejected.

Soaring through the air, towards its target. The alpha before it was in the air sharpen claws out stretched for its prey. With the mass beginning to obscure the target, it simply skimmed across the bone white plate taking small fragments, unimpeded and clear line it struck the target. Plaster and wood sprayed from its strike, the force was enough too jostle the art off the wall taking pieces of the wall. The thin line that was set pulled back the fuse, freeing the clip with a solemn click. The charging pin fired forth, igniting the powder within. The tiller mine bloated out cracking the steel shell and throwing fragments in an angry fit. The concussive force threw the hounds off their feet's, as more where set off. Stone, wood, plaster and torn tools, where thrown about like pikemen thrusting spears into the enemy.

Again, Jürgen found that the alpha, was violently thrown off. The concussive wave forcing the big dog into him. The wind was violently forced from his lungs. his steel helm clattered into his skull that it wasn't made for, as the hound got in one final strike across his head. The explosion of stars and the world spinning around him, didn't help as he tussled over and over in the air. Before he could feel the unforgiving ground, an arm wrapped around his waist and the sudden motion of slowing down. With another tug they where off. Through the lucid haze, all he could see and hear where just blurs and muffled sounds. Fighting the losing battle for consciousness all he felt was his arms being draped over two bodies on both arms. He felt a tickling sensation underneath the left. He couldn't keep up the fight, his will was fading as well as the darkness growing around his sight. Then he felt no more as he slipped into unconsciousness.

As promised here are a few that I've been reading on. until next time. review and throw in some advice too help me.

Hitler's Elite: The SS 1939-45 by Chris McNab

The Waffen SS: Hitler's Elite Guard at War, 1939-1945 By George H. Stein

My struggle by Hitler himself.

stalingrad: the fateful siege: 1942-1943 By Antony beevor

German panzer Divisions of WW II by bishop Chris

Munich playground Ernest R. Pope

The Gestapo: the myth and Reality of Hitler's Secret Police by Frank McDonough

More too add next chapter


	8. Returning to the grave part III

Returning to the grave 3

A half mask, that now represented the white fang. Was held loosely within his grasp, it had brought doubt to him. Was he, making the right choice? Was he really making, a difference? Before he was apart of, the more peaceful resolution. To bring them rights and equality?. His heart and his pride, where pulling him back and forth. A game of tug of war, a battle that still shook his core today. Shaking his head, he stood up, grabbing the assault rifle that laid next to him. The old dusty ruined factory, that his team was in, was just like everything else. Forgotten, discarded too rot and decay.

Walking a few paces, where he knew the break room was, he headed for the sink turning it on, the always cold water that greeted him. Splashing and washing the grime and dirt away, he looked deep into the mirror in front of him. A light auburn mess that was his hair and at the top just poking out where two light red ears that stood tall and faded into black on the tips. His eyes a light sky blue colour that he received from his mother as father always says. A bit of a square face with a gentle curve around his clean shaven chin. Watching himself in the mirror he spotted movement behind him.

A girl no older than seventeen walked in holding a shield and a rifle, with a flick of her wrist it turned into a gladius. Sliding it home on her left hip, her red bushy tail gently swaying. "So what's the news today?" Watching her carefully from the mirror, he couldn't read her expression through that mask, that the white fang now wears. A tired sigh left her lips as she seated herself, a hand rubbing just above her mask. "Adam wants us to scout more, towards the east. Saying that something isn't right about that part of the city." Was her soft reply. Closing the tap and turning around so he could face her, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms. "I wonder what got his attention, for us too check again?" His right ear twitched from a new source.

walking through the entryway was a very large bear of a man his war hammer lazily resting on his shoulders. "Turns out Helix. They caught short bursts of encrypted radio waves. There old but the boys managed to crack it. And found bits of communication in Solitas and something else." He trailed off, thinking of how to put it. "What do you mean. Something else?" Spoke the young lady.

Before he could even say anything, another entered. A man well within his mid twenties, his mask was different from the rest, it had more markings and covered more of his features except the small strands of whiskers and his rather large ears of a mouse. "It doesn't matter. We have a task, and we will complete it. In and out. That's all they are asking for." He spoke calmly, then gestured for them too follow him. "Get the others ready too move. We have a good distance too cover." With conformation from the others, with a light tug hoisting the strap around his shoulder.

It was mid day as the empty street they traveled on was clear. No cloudy rain in the blue sky, or Grimm roaming about around them, he could feel that this was going too be a good easy day for them. "Hey itchy, you doing good?" Shifting slightly, he spotted the only person in there fifteen group. Scratching away at himself while he rested his halberd in one arm. "Ah ha, ah ha. No! I have you too thank for giving me the hives! You know, god dam well, that I'm allergic too that brand of chocolate." He could practically, taste the sarcasm from that laugh and his distaste for his current situation.

"Come on Itchy. I said I was sorry about it." The rear guard said waving his sword as he spoke. "Itchy, Rust. Shut up already." Seethed out the young woman as she held her head, but her red bushy tail flicking in agitation. "Come on Alloy. Give me a break here as I try too mend this." As rust walked faster to maintain his speed with Itchy. Walking side by side with The hound. Before he could do anything, a call of. "Hold up." With a fist raised, the group stopped, and spread out with their arms raised and ready for any attack. "What Did you hear Adelina?" He pulled out a small package, with a map. Protected by a thin plastic cover it was the size of a small tablet. "Alloy. Check your scroll for an up too date map." He called out. Still running his hand over the map, turning it this way and that way in confusion.

"What's up Adelina?" Looking over his shoulder, he spotted one of the few men in his group holding a regular weapon. Then what huntsman and huntress use. His hood was covering his head alongside with the half mask. "Look what's in front of us helix. And tell me what I see wrong here." Holding up the map, so they can both see. He began tracing there position where they where and towards the blank spot, just one kilometre in front of them. Moving his sights from the map and towards the street that shouldn't exist.

"That's not suppose too be there. We should be seeing the open fields and the forest." Adelina spoke loud enough, for everyone too hear him. "Orders sir?" As helix step beside him, holding his assault rifle lax. "We do as we where ordered. Go in, and get out, with what we find in there." Storing his tools and equipment, he hoisted his bastard sword in one hand and a small kite shield in the another. "Stay on guard. My instincts, are screaming at me not too go in." But he still moved forward, with his team right behind him.

Helix couldn't help, but feel the hairs stand on edge. The sight before them. It was wrong, so very wrong, in a sense that anything going in. Will never come back out. "We shouldn't be here sir." Stopping a few steps Adelina turned slightly towards helix. "We found what we where ordered to find. Let's head back. And call it in." A tired sigh escaped Adelina as he fully faced Helix. "I know. but I have orders too follow through till the end." Gritting his teeth, Helix let out a sharp snort through his nose, his ears posed themselves in a threatening manner. "Look. Sir. This place, it feels like it was ripped strait out, of a horror film." He callously spoke the word sir, but it carried trepidation as he fully faced, the ruined street before them.

"I agree with Helix." A boar of a man stepped up beside them. A rather large coat covering his large build, nearly six feet tall, his heavy war axe resting on his shoulder, the mask mostly covering his features. But the two boar tusks where deformed from many battles. His face was set in a grim determination as they faced the ruins. "As much as I, have done for the white fang. This will be the first, that I'm not willingly too follow through with. I can smell blood... lots of it."

Helix was still facing the new edition. The longer he looked, the more minuet details he began too spot. Signs that held unfamiliar literature. And stone work that could only be found in the oldest parts of a city. "Come now, old friend. There hasn't been anything, that we've pulled through before." Glancing over, he watched Adelina place his hand on his friends shoulder. "This one, will be just like the rest. That you're gut have felt like it wasn't worth it." With a huff and a snort, he hefted his battle axe more comfortably along his shoulder, yet ready too strike with the slightest provocation.

It had only been fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes that left, Helix and the squad unnerved and already, he wanted too leave. It was quiet, a very unnerving silence, that Mount Glenn couldn't reproduce. There should be something here. To it give life, but there wasn't any songs of birds, or the Grimm prowling around.

Taking a quick glance towards his team, he made a quick head count. Itchy and Rust where strangely quiet, aiming there now transformed weapons at homes they passed and alleyways. Glass crumpled and cracked under Alloy's boots, she stopped suddenly at the sound, along with the rest.

"My god. I have never, felt this way before. I'm jumping at shadows and sounds, right now." Rust spoke up, lowering his SMG. As Alloy lifted her boot, she paused at what she stepped on. Crouching down, she lifted the broken frame of a family, of eight. A mother and father, with six children in a black and white photo. Before she could say anything, an explosion of hot searing pain, rippled across her upper right chest. Just slightly above her breast the steel armour compressing and warped.

Watching her fall backwards, Helix couldn't comprehend, on what he was seeing. Then he heard it. A solitary loud crack, reverberating down the street, his ears flinching towards the sound. "Alloy!" Someone yelled out her name. Snapping out of his stupor, he grabbed the back of her shirt. Dragging her slumped form, into one, of the many stores around them. "Where did that come from?" Laying her down, Helix quickly checked her pulse, it was still pumping, but at a much slower pace. checking again, he found where the round had struck.

There, just above her breastplate. A small disbursed powder, round and silvery was there. Reaching over, he felt along the surface, feeling the small dent. Unclipping her straps and removing her armour, a relived sigh escaped from him. There wasn't anything that he could see, glad that there wasn't a bloody hole. "Alloy... hey. Come on girl." Lightly slapping her cheek. Her hand struck his away weakly, followed up with a coughing fit. "God dam-it!" Trying too take in mouth fulls of air, she rolled onto her side coughing more. "Fuck." Reaching up, her hand felt along the affected area. "I. Am so glad, that I've invested into Kevlar... dam. That's going too hurt for a long time."

Helix shook his head. "You should be thanking you're semblance. For taking most of that blow. Fritz take over for me." Switching roles with one of his squad mates. Charging the bolt, he levelled it at rest. Across from the street, he spotted Adelina with Racine, Rust and three others with him, inside a bakery. "Is Alloy alright? And did you see where that shot came from?" Shaking his head in the negative. Helix leaned out of his cover, seeing nothing but a desolate street and a large complex at the end. A tickling sensation crawled up his spine, quickly he ducked back, feeling wood splinter and the disturb air that the bullet left behind.

"That wasn't a dust round." His shaken voice left him. "That's not a dust round." He spoke again. He felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away. "Helix. What did you see out there?" Looking over, he was met with a worried look, from his fellow member her eyes full of worry. "Helix. Calm down and breathe." She spoke up placing a gentle hand on his cheek. Then gesturing her hand too breathe in and out. Following her movements and exercising the motions, he began too calm.

"Helix." Turning swiftly across the street he spotted Adeline, tossing a radio over. A puff of dirt splashed just a little beyond the street, then followed by the rifles crack. "Bastard tried too shoot the radio in the air." A surprised Itchy spoke up as he caught the radio in hand. Checking over the radio, he found no damages, a relief sigh escaped him. "Turn it on frequency 106.z channel 7." Turning the knobs and dials it rang too life with Rust speaking "Dam, that was some shot. If it managed too hit the radio in the air like that."

"Fritz how's Alloy?" Helix took up position next to him, seeing Alloy nursing her bruised shoulder. "She'll be alright. It's nothing that will keep her down." Releasing the talk, a short chuckle came back. "I doubt anything will keep that fox down for so long. She's stubborn as that general from Atlas." Shaking his head. He took a quick glance towards his group. With a slow inhale he let it out slowly before speaking again. "Get Adelina, we need a plan now."

"Helix." It was Adelina's voice that spoke through. A sharp commanding voice that set him on edge. "Yes sir." Was his quick reply. "Take your group and meet us at that... that. What ever that building is down the street." Seeing Adelina across the street, watching him. He nodded his head in the affirmative. "Good. I'll see you there." Turning, he watched them disappear into the ruins.

Gathering his nerves and equipment. Helix steadily walked through the group, stopping just near a door. "Alright guys. Where going out there to meet up with Adelina, and clear that perch." Waiting for the others, he checked the door, feeling it gave way into an alleyway. "Helix." A pained groan, escaped Alloys lips as she was supporting herself on Itchy's shoulder. Glancing behind, she spoke again. "Be careful. And you're right Helix. This was a bad idea too come here." Taking there first steps into the hellish city, known as Stalingrad. They made their way, step. By excruciating step.

They made it four blocks, within thirty minutes. Ever watching the buildings and rubble, and staying clear from open ground. A Beowolf's call came down the street before them, as three walked out into the open, from a shop. "Shit! They've spotted us." Called out Fritz, his feline ears perked and his rifle raised.

Spotting their quarry, the beasts leapt forth charging across the street. Before they could defend themselves, one of the hounds was quickly taken in a shower of flams and dirt. Then another was blasted from beneath. Ripping the hound from the waistline. The last one, was taken from behind. When something exploded just under its feet, taking it off the ground. Steel metallic pings, dust, plaster and wooden splinters, sprouting around them, followed by deathly whispers that called around them.

A pained scream came from their right. "My god. Kobi!" On the ground, was Kobi, holding onto his bloody leg. A sizeable chunk of his flesh was torn off. He still cried out in excruciating pain from the ground, a scream that was so loud and filled with so much pain. "Dam it. Get him up." Turning away from the sight, Helix took a sidelong glance at the wall. There was a small silvery steel ball, that was embedded into the stone. Pulling it out, it was the size of a marble. Looking where the Beowolf was, it was beginning too dissipate along with the others. A cold, realization came over him as he looked back at the marble and the now decaying Grimm.

"We need too get off this street. Now!" Dropping the steel ball, he came up beside Kobi. Lifting the wounded Faunus up, despite his calls for mercy and too be put back down. Helix and Itchy carried him into a building. "Put me down! Put me down god dam it" was Kodi's cries as he was dragging his wounded leg. Tossing the door wide open, Fritz cleared a table from debris and junk, as Kodi was placed on top. "Tuk! you have you're medical bag with you?" Stepping aside, a short girl with the ears of a red hair rabbit. Stepped up, swinging her beg onto the table. "Give me room so that I can see." Stepping away, Helix placed a hand on top of his chest, feeling his heart, beating against his chest. "Alloy come with me." He called her when he walked past, waiting for her out side the hallway.

Leaning heavily against the wall it groaned out under his weight, again it startled him from the sudden sound. "What's up Helix? I've never seen you this on edge before." Rubbing his palm roughly against his temple, an agitated breath escaped. "It's this god dam city Alloy. Did you see How those Beowolf's where disposed of?" He quietly spoke towards Alloy, just low enough not too be heard from the others. But with Kodi's pained yelps and muffled cries, he doubted that someone will hear him. "You just got hit out of nowhere, from a bullet... not a dust round." Her hand was moving just outside of her bruise, flinching when she hit a tender spot. "You and I both know that dust cannot make that. Lead rounds can easily cut through cover and steel." Standing back up he walked down the hall, as she walked up beside him. Until they entered a room.

They stopped dead in their tracks, upon seeing what was in the room. taking in what laid around the new room. Empty casings where strewn across the floor, a tripod was set up facing down a street. A long belt of munitions left a metal box that was still connected to the large square body. a water cooling barrel that still faced down the street.

Walking over in stun silence, Helix step up beside the heavy machine gun. His mouth opened wide as his hands shook when he held the linked belt of bullets. He felt his heart still at the sight of lead tipped rounds, then the colourful dust tipped bullets. Quickly he walked over where three more metal boxes laid, forcefully ripping the steel box open, only too step away fearfully. There, inside, it was full of brass casings with more lead tips. "My god." He breathed out. Grabbing a hand full of strips.

Holding onto the strips of five, seven point sixty two millimetre rounds, he looked back at Alloy. As she held up a wooden body of a bolt action rifle. "I don't think where alone in this place." Her foot pushed aside empty casings as they rattled across the wooden flooring. "This isn't right." Helix spoke as he opened more of the boxes and seeing the markings of holes scattered around them. "How can they afford this much?" Placing down the Rifle, she walked right up too the heavy machine gun feeling the cold metal surface before speaking. "My god. This thing is big." She slid her hand along the belt, hearing the rounds clink with each other. "How can they have the resources too make this many lead bullets?" She paused for a bit taking in a deep breath. Something hit the sandbags beside them as powder sprayed from the impact. Followed by the solemn crack of a rifle afterwards.

Taking immediate cover. Helix and Alloy heard wood splinter behind them, as they took up positions. Helix let out a short growl as his ears flickered from the crack from the shooter. "That sounds a lot closer then before." Leaning slightly he spotted Alloy just hiding behind the large pile of sandbags. "Alloy. You think you can get us out of this situation?" He asked, a sharp whistle passed just above him, instinctively his ears folded from the sharp pass.

"Yeah. Just let me focus right now." A light glow illuminated from her being and with a swift swing of her sword. Then her shadow began too split as two copies of herself, began too form. Finishing her semblance, the two leapt over the sandbags only for one too be immediately shattered from the head. "Shit. This sniper is really good." She spoke as they retreated back into the hall.

"We're really close too that bastard." Stopping. Alloy made a quick glance towards Helix as he was starting, really hard at the wall. Almost as if he could see through it. "That shot was closer than before. We must be, at least a hundred fifty meters away from him now." Standing back up with his rifle at hand, with swift movements, unclipping his magazine, checking it's weight. With a tired sigh, he swapped it out with another, from his pouch. "I'll gather up the boys. And we'll go get that bastard." Beginning his way down the hall, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Hold up Helix." Glancing over his shoulder, he awaited for her to continue. "Who ever this shooter is. He's really good, so be careful out there." Nodding his head he continued onwards for this assault.

Helix and five other's, had prepared themselves, for the upcoming assault. Taking the streets again, they where vigilant and carful this time, ready for the hunter. It was, a slow affair, but within a block they have founded his nest. A massive, four story building stood in front of them. "Anyone got any plans too get across the street?" Helix turned towards his gathered team until he spotted Fritz, as he pulled out a small dust vile, filled with the black powder. Loading into the chamber, located in the hilt of his bastard sword. He sprang forth with a small burst, dragging his blade along the street, stirring up a plume of dust and powder. "Alright lets go!" Ordered helix, the group charging through the dust blown cover. Clearing the small cloud, Fritz was waving for them from an open door. "Get over here now." Not arguing, the team made their way inside, weapons drawn and raised for any attack. But nothing came, nothing but the still air of the large clothing store around them.

What they saw, was long lines of clothing and mannequins scattered around their floor, they could see cabinets that are destroyed or crushed, underneath stone and wooden beams. "I don't like what I'm seeing~ right now." A Faunus with antlers spoke up, as he held his Centurion shield higher. "Shut it Grün. We don't need that right now." Hissed out Itchy, transforming his weapon into a shotgun. Every step they took, always disturbed something whether it was glass or garbage. Helix could feel the back of his hairs standing, and no matter how hard he strained his ears he couldn't hear anything.

The deeper they've made inside the store. Helix took a quick glance around him, the upper level had nothing obscuring the open sky. He froze stock still, seeing warped metal holding something he didn't want too see. The group stopped, when they noticed that they where short by one. "No. Fucking way that's possible!" Fritz yelled out. Above them was a large prop plane, held above them by twisted steel beams and ropes. It's left wing was buried into the second floor. And what was left of the right was nothing more then twisted steel. Grün had quicken his pace towards the stairs. A look of awestruck on his face.

Helix ran after him, calling his name as they made their way closer to the stairs. A loud crack of a rifle echoed out, just as Helix was reaching for the deer. The Faunus in front of him, jerked backwards as the wooden support splintered on his right. Helix was paralyzed as he watched Grün's body fell into him. He fell with his friend, back down feeling every step and broken glass from their short flight. It was happening so fast for him, his mind within a whirlwind of what transpired. A warm, sickly feeling began too form around his chest. "Oh god. Helix, Grün!" Someone called out. "There!" Another called. It was soon followed up with gun fire of dust rounds.

"Itchy. Stay here and help Helix. We'll get this bastard." The pain still persisted within helix, all across his left shoulder and upper left back. "Itchy" he mumbled through the pain. "Itchy." Hearing Helix the hound let out a relief sigh. "Yeah buddy." Fighting the throbbing pain in his shoulder, he spoke up through gritted teeth. "How's Grün?" Reaching up to his chest, his hand landed on that wet feeling, lifting too see it come back sticky and red. The familiar smell of iron filled his nose. "He's-he's. Gone helix." Pulling himself next to the deer. A small bloody hole was just below his throat and centre mass of the caller bone.

Above them he could hear the discharge of dust and the crack of a rifle. Pulling through the pain Helix grabbed his rifle. "Come on Itchy. The guys need us." Shaking his head, the hound lead him into a more comfortable position. "They can handle it. Now let me see your chest." Groaning in pain, he took a glance towards their right. A gleam of light reflecting, made him push Itchy. A yelp filled with pain and a searing sensation blasted throughout his let arm. Pulling up his rifle to bear at the on coming man, clad in a dark dirty green uniform. Helix hesitated when he looked into his eyes, a burning hatred unmatched by anyone else but the Grimm.

The fatal mistake, was capitalized by his enemy. Helix saw the wooden butt stock, coming from the left. The blow was devastating, when it cleared from his jaw, before he could cry out. Another blow knocked him backwards with a sickening crack from his snout, allowing a bloody trickle to escape. A harsh and bitter language came out of the man, that he have never heard before. On the ground and fighting the pain it became more harder too breathe. With him on top and firmly wringing his neck. Helix bashed his fist into him, only earning a feeble grunt with every succession. In true animalistic fear his nails turned into claws. Striking with his might, three long and deep markings drew along the soviets left cheek cutting into his left eye.

In shock and surprised anger, the penal stepped back clutching his bloody face. "Helix!" Coughing violently, Helix tried too gather his breath, but couldn't through another fit. A sudden weight on his chest was all he felt, before the blows started. They where heavy hitters, that was filled with pure hatred and unforgiving remorse. Helix could feel the knuckles digging into his face. The harden wood he bounced off rattling his skull for stars to quickly appear. Over and over he wanted it to end.

It all stopped, when his opponent toppled on top him. Then a choked muffled whine escaped him, feeling that terrible warm and sickly sensation within one day. "Helix" a weak sounding Itchy called out. "Helix." Again the hound called out with fear and a pained whine. "I-I'm here Itchy." Was his horse call. It was all quiet again, a silence that was terrifying for his ears. They twitched slightly at anything they caught, with slow deliberate movements. He could hear the clacking of a boot walking towards them, the crunching of glass breaking beneath them empty casings rolling away.

The body that pinned him, was shoved out of the way. Helix tried too see who was there, but the blows he revived clouded his vision and mind. ("What are you?") that was Atlishion. Helix couldn't believe that Atlas troops would be here. ("Detlf. Get over here and help me with them, before those dogs come back.") Feeling a strong hand hoisting him up, Helix allowed himself to be carried over his shoulder. ("Delay that. We must leave before those hounds come sniffing.") who ever was carrying him spoke a little louder. ("Obersturmführer this thing, may know where we are. The Bolsheviks seemed intent, too kill them on sight." They where going somewhere that was all Helix could focus on. But the sharp snarl of the Ober was heard quite clearly. Then darkness took over.

Regaining his senses in a slow unforgiving pain, he groaned out pitifully. "Helix." His mind was still swimming but he heard someone call out again. "Come on Helix wake up." Through the haze and pain he slowly moved his left hand up, only too hiss through his teeth. "Don't move Helix. You're pretty beaten up." A weak giggle left her. But Helix could give her something for trying, he tried again lifting his other stiff arm. "What happened?" Rubbing his tender flesh he looked towards Alloy with a swollen face. "We found you and Itchy with four Solitias..." she went quiet for a bit, thinking on what too say about it carefully. "Their different from the Atlegion army, in a... very big, way."

Unease took over his soul. Alloy was hesitating and debating on her next choice of words, it rose several red flags for him. "What do you mean. Different?" Was the number one question, he wanted answered. She fiddled with her blade, a nervous sign that he grew too know. "Alloy." He questioned again, more sternly. "These guys, can put any army too shame, like, dam. They do not. Fuck around at all, it took me and a few, to tie them up downstairs." Shaking her head in disbelief, a small giggle left her. "Man they held their own against Grey, and he's a Hunter." Taking in a breath, he tried his luck again, getting back up. "Grey 'was' a hunter, he's now a Fallen one. I still don't like him. Too much of a lose cannon." He spat out with contempt. Trying again as he now stood on shaky knees.

Placing herself underneath his arm, she lead him into another room, where Tuk came running over with her large medical bag. "God dam it," she stopped just before them, glaring towards Alloy. "I thought I told you, too keep him, in the room, until I was finished with the others!" Helix and Alloy were taken aback, from such a venomous tone coming from her. "What happened when I was out? Better yet. How long was I out?" The more they watched Tuk. They could see how distraught she really is.

Tuk was walking back and forth, her bloody hands firmly locked on her folded arms. Long dried stained tears, hung onto her cheeks, ears drooping low in stress and depression. A small pitiful sob of a hiccup escaped her as she walked into a corner, folding into herself. "What happened." Helix immediately asked. With out a word she lead him into the next room where he saw two bodies covered in blood stained blankets. "My god." Hobbling towards the nearest one he carefully removed the cover. Pulling away from the head, was a white fang member, from his group, laid still as stone. With his half mask broken, and shattered. Peeling back more of the cover. That had hid the gruesome cuts and multiple lead wounds.

Covering the body. Helix had seen enough, too last his lifetime. "The bastard lead us into a trap." Spoke up Grey, from the other side, nursing his wounded right arm. "They gunned down Alexander, Harold, Aodh and Aoife. Then Alazne took a god dam grenade. Exploded nearby her, tearing off her leg." Taking in a deep breath, allowed a small glow of embers too brighten at the end of his cig. Letting it out slowly, but in the end. he tossed it across form him with great frustration not calming him, in there current state. "She always says, she was a miracle from her mother." A dry mirthless chuckle escaped him. "Look where it got her... we left her behind. Left her for dead. Fucking bleeding on the ground and for dead, screaming for us too help her." Again he tried too light another in his mouth. But the flip lighter kept sparking, growing in more frustration. "We left her because the Grimm came running in. There was too many of them."

Standing up and taking a few paces away. Swiftly, he turned around and with a burst of his aura shattered the chair. "Why god! Why have you forsaken them to this god dam fate." Slamming his fist into the wall, it broke through with ease. "Grey." Helix called out. The wolf Faunus, still had his fist embedded into the wall. His anger clearly heard, through his heavy breathing, teeth gritted and ears positioning themselves flat on his head. "After this is all done. And, out of this forsaken place. The white fang can kiss my ass." Helix paused at what he heard. Grey was a loyal man too the cause. He never doubted Adam, or other high ranking members above him. But now, the wolf wasn't in a good state. "Look Helix." He beckoned for him to stand beside him. Hobbling over, helix stopped right next to Grey. "Look out there Helix." Leaning against the wall, Grey stared distastefully out side. With a snarl. "Take a god dam, long look Helix. Take it in. And see what this place went through."

Taking the time, Helix surveyed what laid in front of them. A ruined and abandoned city is what he saw. The street littered, from decaying buildings and vehicles. But those weren't what had caught Grey's eyes, further down the street, was a very large steel box. A box that had rubble on top and next to it. Caterpillar tracks on both sides, the body had a coating of dull white and grey colour. A turret facing slightly towards the right, the long sleek barrel pointing accusingly across from it. Following the invisible line, he spotted a dull grey and blackened, steel beast. A beast that was slain, it's armoured shell twisted and warped in the rear. Long scars that where left behind by flames.

Then he remembered the plane, inside that store and the dugout that he stumbled across. "All of this, Helix was made by humans and Faunus." Turning away from the open front. Grey simply stood up walking towards a table. "What, are you talking about Grey?" The wolf stopped at the table, then he grabbed a red banner. "We," spreading the banner. Helix saw a red flag with a gold hammer and a sickle crossing each other. "Just stumbled across a war." Pulling up another flag, it was a more darker red banner, a white roundel. within that circle was a black X with four points going clockwise. "Now... let's go see our guests."

Following after Grey, Helix couldn't help but feel a foreboding unease. Painfully reaching the ground floor, he was met with Rust. The dog looked at him with worry, from seeing his bruised and slightly swollen face. "Hmm. And here I thought we had it worse." Passing through, he didn't bother him as he made his way upstairs, with a noticeable limp.

Before he could speak up, it was cut off from a loud bang. Then a scuffle proceeding afterwards. Pushing the door open he stopped, seeing Grey and Adelina fighting for power over a pistol. "Grey!" Grunting through his teeth Adelina barked out again. "Stand down Grey. That's an order." Pushing the mouse further away, the wolf began too overwhelm his smaller frame. "The bastards deserve to die." With a feral growl. The mouse was thrown too the side. The gun levelling with a frightened boy, struggling too get out of his bounds.

With a roar, one of them snapped out of his bounds. Hands a flame, he grabbed onto Grey's arm, forcefully shoving the gun up. Discharging into the plastered ceiling. The grapple for power began again, the two going with much more vigour and zeal. Pulling the gun back down, forcing Grey too follow his smaller frame. A fist struck home, crawling underneath his guard. Reeling back in shock, the shorter man pushed much harder with his advance.

Sliding underneath his shoulder, he pulled on his right arm. Forcing Grey too follow through the motions. Slamming his back into the ground, another swift punch slammed into his head. Bouncing off the floor with such a force. Grey tried his best too defend himself, by putting up his arms, to block the blows. But they came around his defensive line.

Jumping into the fray, helix slugged the soldier across his head. The blow stunning him long enough for Grey too retaliate in kind. The wolf swiped at his foe, his claws digging into his right cheek. It had the effect that grey was going for. Reeling back from the sudden turn, Grey drew up the discarded pistol. Aimed towards the black uniformed man, two long bloody lines trickling from his cheek. Eyes red as the Grimm, with his steel dishevelled blonde hair, looking at them with so much hate. Then he did the unthinkable, bursting from his position. Raised high and held tightly within his grasp was a wooden stake.

Before Grey could pull the trigger, a boot kicked the weapon out of his hand. Then a whip wrapped around the soldier, tugging him into the wall and bonded as he struggled too break free. "That is enough!" Laying his blade across Greys throat. Adelina was now gritting his teeth. "Enough blood has been spilt already Grey." The wolf was still as a statue, with the blade resting against his throat. The fight leaving him, "Tuk. Tie him up." Turning towards helix, then the small group of tied up men. "Helix take them up stairs." Shaking his head in affirmative. Adelina looked back to Grey. "And for you." With a frustrating sigh. "We need too talk. A nice. Long chat about this Grey." Was his final verdict.

A little out of the way but essential for the future of a side story for the white fang. Maybe one for Ivory too. The reason, I need an out side view, for our Schutzstaffel and I wanted too dabble into the white fang side. I've seen many treating the so called terrorist. I call them an angry work force.

Another set of books that I read are made from Sir Oswald

And another is the Communist Manifesto. But please read it with a light heart.


End file.
